The Magic of Wands
by qui-quae-quod
Summary: Snape lives, though his survival comes with unexpected consequences. Hermione retrieves his wand from the Shrieking Shack and it chooses her as its new mistress. What happens when her wand seems to choose Snape as well? Will they choose each other? WIP
1. A Warning

_Disclaimer: Not mine...just playing with the characters/world of the creative genius...JKR..._

A/N: This won't comply with the DH Epilogue. I'm new to the world of fan fiction and found it captivating. This is the first one I've authored, so stick with me on this work in progress.

A/N 12/4/10: My sincerest apologies for not updating this story for so long. I can't even begin to say how much the HP fandom has changed my life, and I tend to think that it all began with this fic, taking that deep breath and publishing that first chapter. I owe it to the readers of this story and to myself to finish this fic, so finish it I will!

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**Chapter 1**

**A Warning**

"Are you certain?" Severus Snape asked. He rested his hands on the desk in front of him and wove his long fingers together. The moonlight trickled through the tower window, emphasizing the pallor of his skin against dark robes. A curtain of black hair framed an expression of deep frustration. With furrowed eyebrows, he took a deep breath and held it for a moment, before slowly releasing as a near silent sigh.

"Oh yes, Severus, quite," Dumbledore said. "I have given the matter much thought, and taking recent events into consideration, I have concluded that this will indeed be the path that Voldemort will take, and soon. I do, of course, understand your uncertainties, given the gravity of the situation."

"Obviously," Severus muttered.

He turned in his chair to look at the former Headmaster's portrait that hung behind the desk. Dumbledore was smiling as always and met his gaze through half moon spectacles. Severus narrowed his eyes as anger toward the old wizard burned deeper within his stomach. Dumbledore's constant serenity bothered him. Does he not remember that he was murdered by a man who didn't want him to die in the first place?

"I shall do your bidding, though I fail to see how you have drawn such a specific conclusion from the information we've just discussed."

"Ah, Severus, you must forgive the wanderings of an old wizard's mind. You see, this information presented itself not to me, but to dear Harry. It would seem that Voldemort became rather agitated and excited while pondering your fate and allowed his mental guard to slip. It appeared to Harry in a dream. This was last year."

"Potter," Severus hissed. His lip quivered slightly in protest, he was loath to even say the name. "The Dark Lord is a master Occlumens, I'm not entirely sure I'd trust anything Potter saw in a dream. He might have intended that the boy see. Do you recall the fiasco at the Ministry?"

"I do not believe the circumstances to be the same. This is something different entirely," Dumbledore replied with a calm air. Unable to maintain his composure, Severus stood up and swooped to the portrait.

"Believe me when I say that I will not die for the dreams of some teenage boy. Especially Potter!" he spat with a clenched jaw, his nose mere inches from the canvas.

"Of course you wouldn't, nor would I expect you to. But you have to understand, I do have good reason to believe that this is not the same as the events prior to the tragedy at the Ministry. Will you hear me out?"

"If I must," Severus said with a defeated flourish of his hand. He walked away from the portrait and began to pace in front of the desk.

"First, what would be the purpose of his showing Harry how you are to be murdered? He is quite aware of your feelings toward Harry. He also knows that Harry isn't entirely fond of you either. Or your detentions for that matter," Dumbledore added with a slight chuckle. "Second, and perhaps more important, the vision presented itself to Harry different than that of Sirius or Arthur Weasley. You see, Harry saw not your actual murder, but only Voldemort coddling Nagini, telling her you deserved a better death than Avada Kedavra. That a wizard as significant as you could only be killed by one as great her. It would seem that the thought of Nagini killing his most trusted follower pleased him immensely."

"Nagini," Severus said, running a hand through his hair. "But why are you telling me now, when my impending death didn't seem so important a year ago?"

"I felt it unnecessary to burden you with such information until the time came for you to be prepared. That time is now."

"And why are you so certain that he will kill me? He has given no indication that he is anything but pleased with me," Severus said.

"In light of recent events, I know that it is only a matter of time before he begins to believe that your death is necessary."

"But _why_ will he think my death necessary? I cannot make sense of it."

"That, my dear Severus, is not for me to tell. I'm afraid you'll have to find the answer to that particular question on your own."

"Even in death you speak in maddening riddles. Am I to die quietly?" Severus couldn't help but to infuse his words with the bitterness coursing through his veins. "Is it that you have been preparing two pieces of meat to sacrifice for the _greater good_?" Out of the corner of his eye he saw the portrait of Dumbledore grimace slightly. This soothed him. At least words still stung the impossible old wizard.

"I do not expect you to die at all, unless you feel it the only way to convey your animosity toward the portrait of an old and tired former headmaster," Dumbledore said.

"Of course not." Severus was not an easy man to read, and it drove him mad that Dumbledore understood him so well.

"I do, however, expect you to properly prepare yourself to survive Nagini's attack, not only for your sake, but for the sake of your students. Hogwarts and the wizarding world as a whole would suffer greatly from the loss of the greatest Potions Master this age has seen."

"I sincerely doubt anyone at Hogwarts would see my death as a loss. And you must know by now that it is the Defense Against the Dark Arts position that I desire, not Potions," Severus said with the slightest hint of an ironic frown playing on his lips.

"My dear boy, after all of this, do you truly believe Defence is the position you'll still fancy?" Dumbledore asked against a stifled yawn. "I think that once the Darkness has left your life, you'll be more than happy to embrace your true passion: dreadful ingredients, bubbling cauldrons, and putrid fumes. Only you seem to fully appreciate the beauty in that." Dumbledore yawned again.

Severus simply sighed and shook his head. He couldn't hide anything from him, including his passion for potion-making. Dumbledore's head began lolling dangerously with sleep and Severus felt a slight pang of jealously over his relaxed state. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept for more than an hour or two. He sank back into his chair and rested his head in his hands. The only sound in the room was the occasional exaggerated snort of a portrait feigning sleep.

In a way, the Death Eater in Severus was flattered that the Dark Lord felt that he deserved more than Avada Kedavra, but he was also somewhat offended that he was meant to be killed off by a pet snake. He had always felt that Nagini was more than just a familiar, and now he was sure of it.

Severus knew he should be grateful for Dumbledore's warning, but part of him felt that death would be a welcome relief. He was so tired. So broken. Hadn't he sacrificed enough? Didn't he deserve redemption? He was aware that for as long as he was to live, the ghosts of his past would haunt him. He knew that every night, memories would torture him. His mind could never rest. There were times when his regret ran deeper than his sense of obligation. He felt that crawling out of his skin would be easier than living with himself and his mistakes. Why continue? Wouldn't Lily understand that this was too hard for him?

No. He knew he deserved this sorrow. A short life full of mere pain would not acquit the actions of his past. He owed it to her to continue. She was worthy of much more than his pathetic life . He owed her his soul. Every part of it.


	2. Dark Brewing

_Disclaimer: Just a bit of fun from which no money will be made._

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**Chapter 2**

**Dark Brewing**

Severus worked his way down a line of six bubbling cauldrons that sat on a large lab table. He was engaged with determined, yet graceful speed. Each potion received its necessary ingredients and stirs, but nothing more. He was methodical, not stopping to ponder, admire, or check his work. He relied on his mastery for accuracy and his purpose for a quick tempo. If it weren't for the tiny beads of betraying sweat on his forehead, it would appear his actions were in no way laborious.

His laboratory was long and narrow with low ceilings. It was shrouded in darkness, having no fireplace or windows. The only light was drawn from black candles hovering haplessly about the room, and from the flickering flames underneath the cauldrons. The stone walls were a hard grey, yet they sparkled as though slick with condensation. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls and were laden with empty bottles, ingredients, and books. The table at which he worked was situated in the middle of the laboratory, with a singular, uninviting wooden stool at the end.

When Severus learned that he was to become Dumbledore's murderer, he immediately established a secret lab in the farthest depths of the dungeons at Hogwarts. Wards were hardly necessary to ensure his privacy here. Not even the most daring of students would make it so far into the pitch black labyrinth of corridors that ran underneath the school and lake. His main concern were the ghosts. He knew that they wandered down here from time to time, so he employed an undetectable repelling charm to discourage them from nearing his lab's corridor.

Once established as the new (though reluctant) headmaster, he made a big show of moving his original lab and ingredient stores into the head's tower. He timed it so as many of the faculty as possible saw the parade of house-elves levitating his varied potions apparatus and countless glass jars containing pickled and preserved specimens away from the dungeons. He wanted it to appear that he was gladly moving into his new quarters when really, he avoided them as much as possible. The pain of Dumbledore's death was still too fresh, and his memory still lingered too strongly in the tower rooms. Severus felt more at home in the gloom of this lab, where he found comfort in the damp blanket of cold air.

Today he was brewing three potions for the Infirmary and three potions for his private use. Though Madam Pompfrey avoided speaking to him (along with most of the Hogwarts staff, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing when he considered it), he made sure to always keep her stores well stocked. He knew that she needed all the potions he could provide with those bloody Carrows handing out violent punishments like candy at Halloween.

For his personal use, he was brewing an antivenin serum, a long lasting Blood-Replenishing Potion he had been developing, and a small batch of Felix Felicis. For the last year, Severus had been taking doses of the antivenin at the counsel of Dumbledore. The toll it took on his body was quite obvious, his appearance rapidly deteriorating with each passing week. He lost weight and his pale complexion was now a sickly grey, his translucent skin webbed with visible blue veins. Though he was sure others noticed it, apparently both Death Eaters and Hogwarts staff were content to attribute this physical change to stress. His body would now be able to fight Nagini's toxic venom, and knew that he had a chance of surviving this most poisonous snake.

The Blood-Replenisher was a unique potion of his creation. He could consume it before going into danger as a precaution. The potion stayed in the body's system for hours. If he were to sustain a life threatening wound, the potion would continue to produce just enough blood to keep his body alive, even if he were bleeding profusely.

This potion was not without risks; he could only hope that his injuries would not result in lost consciousness in a position that would cause him to drown in his own blood.

The Felix was being produced at the continued insistence of Dumbledore. Severus argued hard against the necessity of this potion. He never partook in the consumption of potions such as Felix. He was not partial to the idea of a potion influencing his actions and instincts, even if it was meant to make the consequences seem lucky. But Dumbledore insisted it was necessary, just this one time.

"You won't be taking this potion for your luck alone, it will be for the luck of all of us. They need you, my dear Severus," Dumbledore had pleaded. Severus grumbled something about 'slave for life', but finally agreed to make the damnable potion.

The month of May was new, and Severus sensed that the end was near (though he wasn't entirely sure what "the end" entailed). When he learned that the Dark Lord had taken Dumbledore's wand from his tomb, he immediately understood why he would find it necessary to kill him. After kidnapping and torturing wandmakers from around the world, it would only be a matter of time before he understood that he could not truly possess Dumbledore's wand until he overpowered the one who overpowered Dumbledore. He also realized that the Dark Lord would most likely make the assumption that since Severus killed Dumbledore, he'd be the one to overpower. He knew that this assumption might prove to be the Dark Lord's fatal mistake. It was Draco Malfoy who had overpowered Dumbledore with his disarming spell, so it was likely that the wand saw Draco as its true master. Severus merely cast the spell that stopped an already doomed man's heart. Severus took comfort in the fact that even if he did fail and die, the Dark Lord would still not fully possess a wand he knew to be most powerful.

Severus sighed as he gave one of the cauldrons a final stir, his sharp eyes flitting over the other potions. He looked hesitant to conclude his labors, but finally, with another sigh, he extinguished the flames under five of the six cauldrons (the Felix would need to brew longer). The room grew darker and seemed colder without the light of the flames dancing on the walls.

He sank down onto the work stool and drew it up to the table. He straightened his shoulders and threw his head back, sweeping his damp hair from his face. Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he shook his head as though pleading with some invisible being. He lowered his hands and blinked at the ceiling for a few moments. Taking a shaky breath, he stood and retrieved his wand from his robes, flicking it at various shelves without looking, sending potion bottles, salve tubs, and small phials levitating through the room. They were set down with hardly a sound next to their appropriate cauldrons. He began to first bottle the antivenin serum into small round phials that were a deep emerald green. After he filled the last of these, he held one up to eye level and turned it in his fingers as though admiring it.

"Green," he whispered as he brought the phial of still warm potion to his lips. He tipped the liquid into his mouth and grimaced slightly as it burned its way down his throat. He set the phial down on the table, brushed away the singular tear that had fallen from his eye, and turned back to his work.


	3. No Luck at All

_Disclaimer: I'm just playing with JKR's creations._

A/N: In this chapter, I found it necessary to quote some dialogue (not much) from DH. All words in _**bold italics **_are direct dialogue quotes from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by JK Rowling.

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**Chapter 3**

**No Luck at All**

Severus was in his study going over Filch's latest list of student infractions when Dilys Derwent came bursting into her portrait. She was panting and speaking wildly of Harry Potter being in the castle. It was only a moment later that Severus felt his Dark Mark begin to burn.

"Alecto," he growled. He knew that Potter must have been apprehended by one of the Carrows. "Phineas, see if you can get more information. And hurry." Phineas Black nodded and left his portrait.

"Severus," Dumbledore said with urgency, "it's time."

Severus simply nodded and pulled two phials from his desk. The larger was filled to the brim with a crimson red potion and the smaller with what appeared to be melted gold. He removed the cork from the larger phial and drank the red Blood-Replenishing Potion in gulps, slamming the phial down on the desk once it was empty. He wiped his mouth with a shaking hand, then carefully removed the cork from the phial containing the gold liquid. After a slight hesitation, he sighed loudly.

"Cheers, I suppose," he said. He inclined his head toward Dumbledore's portrait and drank the potion, just as Phineas returned to his portrait.

"The school's portraits are in an uproar. It would appear that Potter is indeed here. He's just left the Ravenclaw common room with Minvera and another student," Phineas stopped his rapid speech to take a breath. "They also said something about Potter using the Cruciatus on Amycus."

Severus raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't comment. Instead he began to walk toward the exit in long strides, his robes billowing around him like wisps of thick black smoke.,

"Oh, and Severus!" Phineas called. "Potter has that bloody invisibility cloak of his."

"Of course he does," Severus said as he threw the empty phial of Felix over his shoulder. It shattered on the stone floor as he exited the room. He had to find Minerva and Potter.

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Not an hour later, Severus stood in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest near Aragog's old lair. He ignored the surrounding Death Eaters and stared into the fire that burned nearby, cursing at himself. He hadn't been able to speak with Potter. No, instead he was forced to flee like a coward. He expected that Minerva might attack him, but he hadn't expected the ferocity with which she attacked. The rage the old woman directed at him was surprising. And then Filius set that bloody armor on him. He felt his chest tighten slightly as he realized they must truly hate him.

He had been so close to getting Potter. He knew Minerva was just trying to protect the boy, but instead, she had inadvertently helped the Dark Lord's cause. How was he to speak to Potter now? He pinched the bridge of his nose and began to wonder if the Felix was working. While the Felix seemed to tell him that fleeing was the right thing to do at the time, he now felt an idiot. And in the event he did somehow find Potter, how was he to convince him that he would have to sacrifice his life in order for the Dark Lord to truly die? It was an impossible task (as Dumbledore's tasks often seemed). He sighed and began to pace in front of the fire. Severus knew he was out of time. It was unlikely he'd be able to reach Potter now that Hogwarts was under siege. A sense of failure gripped him so hard, he didn't notice that Lucius Malfoy was speaking to him.

"Severus, did you hear me?" Lucius asked in a hollow voice.

Severus stopped and turned to face him, but said nothing. He had never seen the arrogant wizard looking so defeated.

_No more than he deserves_, thought Severus bitterly.

"My son...Severus...please. Have you-" Severus cut him off by raising his hand.

"If your son is dead, it would not pain me. He was called to the Dark Lord, yet he did not come. I would assume that since young Crabbe and Goyle also decided it was not necessary to grace us with their presence tonight, the useless boys were frightened and decided to remain hidden within the castle." Severus sneered and continued, "However, knowing the Dark Lord's hatred for such cowards, perhaps it is best for you to hope he is indeed dead, Lucius."

Lucius' face hardened. His eyebrows that were a moment ago raised with pleading concern were now dropped into a furious glare.

"Since you have no news of Draco, I may as well get to it," he hissed in a low voice. "Our Lord has requested your presence in the Shrieking Shack. Apparently he is in need of your service."

"I see," said Severus, still holding the sneer on his face. "Then I suspect your son is yet alive." With that, he turned in a swirl of robes, leaving behind a stricken Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

When Severus reached the Dark Lord, his suspicion that he had run out of time to find Potter were confirmed. He saw that Nagini was floating in a magical shield. He had failed in probably his most important task.

"_**If there comes a time comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside him under magical protection, then, I think, it will be safe to tell Harry,"** _Dumbledore had instructed him. What the wizard failed to properly convey was how the bloody hell he was supposed to tell Potter to lay down and die. It was doubtful the boy would have listened to a word Severus had to say without a duel. Harry Potter wished him dead. How could he not have failed in the task?

Perhaps that was to be the purpose of the Felix, to help him accomplish this impossible task. There must've been something wrong with the potion, for while he felt he was on the right path, nothing about this night seemed lucky. As he watched the Dark Lord examining Dumbledore's wand he had claimed as his own, Severus knew that he had figured it out. He would now see Severus's death as necessary. A slight pang of anxiety shot through his body, but he was careful to keep his face as still as a statue.

"_**...My Lord, their resistance is crumbling,"**_ he began to drawl, hardly noticing the words he spoke. The rest of the conversation was lost on him as his focus was spent on Nagini. Though he knew the effort would likely be futile, he decided to try and implore the Dark Lord to let him go to Potter.

Finally, he knew his end had arrived when the Dark Lord spoke the words: _**"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine."**_

"_**My Lord!**" _Severus feigned shock and uselessly raised his wand. When the Dark Lord slashed the Elder Wand through the air, Severus briefly thought that he was to meet his demise by wand and not serpent, but no curse hit him. He inwardly sighed relief.

The feeling was short lived as he realized the magically encased snake was floating straight for his head. He yelled instinctively and lifted his hands to shield himself. Though he had known this was coming for months, it didn't make it any easier. Fear clenched his stomach as Nagini's cool reptilian skin brushed his cheek. A hiss of Parseltongue hit his ears before he felt fangs sink into his neck. He couldn't stop the scream that escaped his lips. He felt his knees give way to weakness, and he crumpled to the floor.

"_**I regret it,**" _he heard Voldemort say, causing rage to sear through his body.

He brought his hands to the wound on his neck and again hoped that his Blood-Replenishing Potion didn't prove to be an utter failure as the Felix had. Then again, perhaps the Felix was working properly as he had been silently hoping for death for years. He did not want death to come to him, though, while he was a complete failure.

He had begun cursing himself again for not reaching Potter when the boy suddenly appeared out of thin air, just above him. His eyes widened in shock and he realized that he must be hallucinating. He reached out bloodied, shaking hands and grabbed the robes of a very solid wizard.

Severus felt so weak, as though he was truly dying. He had been gravely injured in the past, but he had never felt this before. It was as though he was teetering on the sharp edge of an endless chasm of darkness. He knew that he must give Potter Dumbledore's message, but found he couldn't speak. Not knowing what else to do, he willed his most painful, yet telling memories to leave his mind. They began to flow from him freely, and what respite he felt as a result of parting ways with those memories was replaced by panic at the thought of Potter seeing them. He could see the boy didn't know what to do, and if he'd had the strength to roll his eyes, he would have.

"_**Take...it...take...it...**" _he managed to rasp in a voice that didn't sound like his own. He saw a flask being shoved into Potter's hands. His eyes flitted over and found the face of an exhausted yet determined young witch. With some surprise, he realized that he was looking at Hermione Granger. Were it not for the hair, he might not have recognized her.

_There's one impossibly annoying witch whose full potential I will regret not seeing,_ he thought as blood and memories continued to leave his body.

_No. Lily...only Lily...always Lily, _he thought with an overwhelming sense of guilt. His eyes fluttered back to Potter and he finally admitted to himself that the boy really did have his mother's eyes. Her beautiful green eyes. His grip on the robes loosened.

"**_Look...at...me..._" **Severus managed to whisper. What little strength that remained within his body failed as he was engulfed in an ocean of green then plunged into black unconsciousness.


	4. A Missing Portrait and Lots of Blood

_Disclaimer: Still just playing around with characters that aren't mine...they belong to JKR and all of her affiliates and such._

A/N: Just two more tiny dialogue quotes from DH. Then that's it! No more quotes...we'll get moving along with the story.

Again, quotes taken directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling are noted in _**bold italics.**_

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**Chapter 4**

**A Missing Portrait and Lots of Blood**

Hermione Granger felt rather numb as Harry spoke to Dumbledore's portrait about the fate of the Elder Wand. She embraced the lack of feeling over the flood of conflicting emotions skirting the edge of her conscience: overwhelming happiness that Voldemort was finally gone and deep pain at the deaths she would soon have to acknowledge. She worked hard to keep her thoughts away from the faces of Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Colin...

"_**I think Harry's right,"**_ Hermione said, again pushing emotion away from her mind and fully agreeing that Harry should not possess the Elder Wand.

"_**That wand's more trouble than it's worth," said Harry. "And quite honestly, I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."**_

Hermione began to follow Harry and Ron as they left the Headmaster's study, but hesitated. She stopped to scan the portraits of the former headmasters again, her mind on all that Harry had just told them about the memories that Professor Snape had left him. For some reason, nothing he had revealed surprised her much. She never fully accepted that he had murdered Dumbledore without some deeper motivation. She had also suspected that there must be some reason for his immediate and profound hatred of Harry. It made complete sense to her that he was in love with Lily. Just looking at Harry must've been torture for him. As people say, he looks just like his father, but with his mother's eyes. Harry was a constant reminder that the love of his life gave her love to another.

She started to exit again and idly wondered where Professor Snape's portrait was. She stopped in her tracks, realizing that he must still be in the Shrieking Shack. His body should be retrieved and she wasn't sure that anyone but she, Harry, and Ron knew he was there at all.

"Harry!" she called. When there was no reply, she realized that they must've continued on while she was lost in thought. Her eyes swept over the portraits again.

_Where is his portrait?_ she thought.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore's portrait said.

"Yes?" she replied, her eyes still scanning the room.

"Am I correct in assuming that you are wondering about Professor Snape?" Dumbledore said. "You won't find your answers here. I suggest you go to him." Hermione's eyes snapped to Dumbledore.

"What?" She wasn't sure she had heard him correctly.

"Go to him, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said.

Hermione just stared at him, unsure of what to do.

"Hurry," he said, his voice tinged with urgency.

"Yes sir," she replied, and with a nod, left the portraits behind.

She was still slightly confused, but decided it was best if she just listened to Dumbledore.

"Harry? Ron?" she called down the hall; there was no response.

She recalled the urgency she had detected in Dumbledore's voice and broke into a run toward the main entrance. She ignored the curious glances directed at her and focused all of her attention on reaching the Whomping Willow. She burst out of the entry doors and began to run across the grounds. While her eyes saw a tattered Neville Longbottom making his way across the grass, her mind didn't acknowledge him as it was occupied with the task at hand: Snape, no portrait, Shrieking Shack, hurry.

"Hermione?" Neville said with concern in his voice.

"Not now Neville!" She knew that he had started to run after her, but a grunt and dull thud told her he had probably stumbled and fallen while trying to match her speed. When she finally made it to the Whomping Willow, she glanced over her shoulder and saw he had fallen far behind. Without hesitation, pointed her wand to a twig on the ground.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" As soon as the twig depressed the knob on the tree, she ducked into the doorway and ran down the tunnel to the shack.

It seemed an eternity before she reached the room where Snape was murdered, and when she did finally arrive, she was out of breath and panting. It took only a moment to realize that the metallic stench that overwhelmed her nostrils was blood. Her eyes looked to her feet and she saw that the floor was pooled in thick blood, much more than one body could produce. She looked around the dark room, but didn't see any bodies other than that of Professor Snape. She began to slowly move toward him, feeling slightly ill as the still warm blood began to soak through her shoes.

Approaching him with caution, she found herself focusing on his boots, afraid to see his face. Knowing she would have to look eventually, she forced her eyes to travel up his body, but before they reached his face, they fell on his neck. She gasped when she saw that blood was still pumping profusely from the wound there.

_He's alive_, she thought. Forgetting her queasiness toward the blood, she rushed to his side and dropped to her knees, ignoring the liquid that soaked through her jeans. She put a hand on his wound in a futile attempt to staunch the bleeding. She grabbed her wand and muttered the first healing spell that came to mind, but it did nothing to slow the bleeding of the ripped puncture wounds. She felt the beginning pangs of panic in her stomach as realized that this was far beyond her skill to heal. It was deep, his arteries and throat tissue would have to be repaired.

"I'll help you, sir," she whispered. After she spoke the words, she was no longer able to hold back the tears that had been threatening to make an appearance. "Please, sir, don't die. You took some sort of Blood-Replenisher, didn't you? That's how you're still bleeding? How you're still alive?"

She started slightly when she felt a soft shutter beneath her hands. Her tears began to flow more freely when his eyes fluttered open. Professor Snape's eyebrows twitched slightly in confusion when their eyes met. He drew in a sharp breath. It sounded ragged and gurgled. She could see that he was in pain.

"Beautiful," he rasped in an unrecognizable voice.

His hand that was resting on the floor moved slightly, as though it were looking for something. Hermione instinctively grasped it. His face relaxed at the contact. The creases of pain that lined his forehead disappeared as his eyes widened and held hers.

"Miss...Granger?" he choked. More blood began to leak from his nose and mouth. "So...annoying...so...beautiful..."

She began to truly feel panic when his black eyes became unfocused and his eyelids shut again.

"Sir, I'm going to get you out of here," she said, dropping his hand and standing up.

"Hermione?" She spun around to find Neville, winded and looking at Snape with a frightened expression on his face. "Did Professor Snape just call you beautiful?" he spluttered.


	5. The Wand Chooses the Witch

_Disclaimer: Not mine...still belongs to JK Rowling, her affiliates, and other such people._

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**Chapter 5**

**The Wand Chooses the Witch**

_"Hermione?" She spun around to find Neville, winded and looking at Snape with a frightened expression on his face. "Did Professor Snape just call you beautiful?" he spluttered._

"What?" she nearly screamed, causing Neville's expression to change from frightened to absolutely terrified. She didn't wait for him to answer and instead said, "We have to get him to the castle. I have to let Professor McGonagall know he's still alive."

"Hermione, he can't possibly be alive. I must've been hearing things. I mean, look at all of this blood," Neville said, lifting a foot from the sticky mess and making a face. "It's just not possible!"

"Well, he's obviously taken some sort of Blood-Replenishing Potion then, hasn't he?" Hermione snapped. "He's still bleeding!" She pointed to his neck.

"But, it's literally a blood bath in here!" Neville protested, his eyes wide and face pale as he looked at Snape's neck.

Hermione wasn't listening. She already had her wand out and shouted "_Expecto Patronum_!" Her otter Patronus burst from her wand and swept past Neville. She turned back to Snape and dropped to her knees again.

"Sir?" she whispered. "I've got to move you. I have to get you out of here." He didn't respond. She stood up again and pointed her wand at him and muttered, "_Mobilicorpus_."

Snape was lifted from the floor as though he were a puppet, and blood still flowed from his neck at an alarming rate. She recalled her third year when he had been led out of the Shrieking Shack in this very same fashion. It was hard to believe that this was the same man in front of her now. She was amazed at how different he looked from just a few years ago. Though his face was obscured by his hair and smeared with blood, she could see that his cheeks were more hollow than before. His eyes were sunken. His customary black robes stuck to his body revealing a dangerously thin frame. He looked skeletal, as though he were no longer a man, only the shell of one.

"Hermione?" Neville said. She jumped at the sound of his voice, she had forgotten he was there. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, realizing that she had started to cry again. She hated looking and feeling so weak. "It's just – I'm just – well, he just can't die! We have to hurry." She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, leaving streaks of red behind. "I sent my Patronus to let Professor McGonagall know that he's alive and we're on our way."

She took a deep breath and reached down to pick up Snape's wand that still sat on the ground, but before her fingers touched it, she hesitated briefly. She was struck by its dark elegance. It was masculine, yet slim, long, and more tapered than most wands. She realized that her own wand might be considered drab in comparison. She shook her head at this odd thought and picked it up.

Immediately, she felt a warm tingle in her fingers that spread quickly through her body. She closed her eyes and let the pleasant feeling wash over her. Opening her eyes, she saw that green sparks were jumping from the tip of the wand and she wasmreminded of the day her own wand chose her at Ollivander's. She had been so excited. She remembered squealing in joy as she felt the slight warm tingle and saw red sparks leaping from it. Holding Snape's wand was similar to this, but the sensation was much, much more intense.

_Oh no_, she thought, feeling panicked again, _I think Professor Snape's wand just chose me!_ She swallowed hard at this realization, but quickly pushed it aside. She had to get Snape to the castle.

"What was that?" Neville exclaimed, pointing at the wand.

"I have no idea," Hermione lied. "Come on, let's get him out of here."

Neville gave her a suspicious look, but followed as she quickly led Snape into the tunnel, neither speaking. Hermione's thoughts were on the wand. The wand chooses the wizard, rang through her head. How could it have chosen her? She certainly wasn't the one who had overpowered Snape - that had been Voldemort. And already, his wand felt more comfortable in her hand than her own wand ever had. It was as though it were a part of her, an extension of her arm. She almost shuddered outwardly at the thought of having to explain to Professor Snape that she accidentally stole his wand's allegiance.

Their trip through the tunnel seemed short and before she knew it, they were out in the early morning air again, headed toward the castle. She saw Professor McGonagall rushing toward them, and as she got closer, she gasped.

"Miss Granger! My dear, are you hurt?" McGonagall asked, her eyes moving up and down Hermione's bloodied clothing, hands, and face.

"I'm fine Professor. This is his blood." She motioned toward Snape.

"Oh my," she said, her voice tense. "Are you sure he's alive?" Both Hermione and Neville nodded.

"He must've taken a Blood-Replenishing Potion," Hermione said. "Though, I've never heard of one this strong." Her curious side almost wished that Snape were awake so that she could ask him about it.

"He isn't a Potions Master for nothing," McGonagall sighed. "Well, no matter how amazing the potion, it won't last forever. We need to get him to St. Mungo's right away."

"I'll take him," Neville piped in.

"Thank you, Mr. Longbottom, but that won't be necessary. I've already sent for Hagrid, he'll take Severus from here. I want the two of you to head straight for Gryffindor tower. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley will be wondering where you are." She turned to Hermione and looked at her with genuine concern written on her face. "Miss Granger, I know you must be exhausted, but I must ask that you get yourself cleaned up and meet me in my office, straight away."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said. She looked at Professor Snape, who was drifting in front of Professor McGonagall, statue-like in the morning sun. His skin was so white that he looked as though he were marble. The blood on his face had begun to dry and crack, though it still dripped from his hooked nose. She avoided looking at his neck.

"Don't worry about Severus," McGonagall said. "I'll be with him until Hagrid gets here, which should be any moment now. He'll be in good hands, though I'm still not entirely sure he deserves it." She finished this last sentence with a tight lipped frown. "Now, go on, off with you."

Hermione and Neville headed back to the castle. Again, they walked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Hermione, for one, was relieved that McGonagall hadn't noticed she had Snape's wand. She planned to return it, but first, she wanted to give it a closer look.

* * *

Hermione didn't follow Neville to the Gryffindor common room, but instead excused herself and went straight for the Prefect's bathroom. She was almost thankful that she reached it without running into Harry or Ron. It wasn't that she didn't want to see them, but at the moment, Snape's wand was at the forefront of her mind. She had never heard of a wand acting as his did. Had she not been covered from head to toe in blood, she might have headed straight to the library to research wandlore.

With the bath water running, she rolled his wand in her fingers, examining it as though it were a delicate artifact. The strange attachment she felt toward it was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Her own wand lay with her soiled clothing, forgotten.

She found the smooth wood captivating and wondered what it was. It was a darker color and almost looked as though it were a stained wood. The wand was slightly worn, but she could see that Snape had taken meticulous care of it over the years. This must have been his first wand. Placing the wand to the side of the bath, she almost smiled at the thought of a first year Snape foolishly waving wands about Ollivander's shop. She would be curious to know what word Ollivander would have used to describe it. The first word that came to her mind was "enduring".

She sighed and began to bathe, her mind drifting away from the wand and toward the events of the night before. She was so overwhelmed with grief, joy, worry, wonder, pain, and relief, that she knew she wouldn't have been able to sleep even if she had wanted to. Her body screamed for rest, but her mind was working in overdrive. She was not looking forward to being questioned by Professor McGonagall, but she knew that it was necessary.

She finished bathing and stepped out of the large tub, immediately retrieving Snape's wand. She felt a burst of gratitude toward the Hogwarts house-elves when she discovered a set of folded clean clothing. Her wand sat neatly on top, and as she picked it up, she felt a slight pang of guilt as she realized she had forgotten it still existed.


	6. Tell Me About the Wand

_Disclaimer: Still not mine...belongs to JKR and all of her peeps._

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Tell Me About the Wand**

After dressing, Hermione headed directly to Professor McGonagall's office with a sense of dread. This time, she felt slightly disappointed when she arrived at the office door without running into Harry or Ron along the way. She still wasn't sure she was ready to explain the wand situation to them yet, but facing Professor McGonagall's stern questions would be much easier with them at her side. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Enter," she heard McGonagall call. Hermione pushed the door open and was relieved to see McGonagall sitting behind her desk with Harry and Ron seated across from her. There was a huge platter of sandwiches between herself and the boys, along with a large carafe of chilled pumpkin juice.

"Her-ni-knee!" Ron managed to say through a mouth full of food. After swallowing quickly, he shot up from his chair and bounded across the room. He gave her an enthusiastic hug, lifting her from the ground and twirling her.

"Ronald Weasley," she squeaked, "put me down this instant!" Ron grinned, but held fast, giving her another twirl.

"Mr. Weasley, that is quite enough," McGonagall admonished, her lips pursed. Ron set her down, still beaming and Hermione smiled back weakly.

"Miss Granger, you must be hungry," said McGonagall. She flicked her wand and a chair appeared next to Harry and Ron's. "Please, have a seat."

"Thanks. I'm famished," she said, meaning it. Harry was already pouring her a tall glass of pumpkin juice as Ron drew in the chair for her.

"We were worried," Harry said, handing her the juice.

"I know, I'm sorry. Everything just happened so fast," she said truthfully. She began to gulp the pumpkin juice. After finishing the entire glass she immediately grabbed a sandwich and began to tear into it with ferocity.

"Professor McGonagall just told us you went back to the shack for Snape," Harry said, taking her glass to fill it again. She nodded, her cheeks stuffed with food.

"Why did you go back for him? And why did you go without us?" Ron asked, not waiting for her to finish chewing.

"Well, Dumbledore told me to go," Hermione said as soon as she swallowed, rather annoyed at being questioned while eating. "He told me to hurry. You guys weren't there, so I just - well, I just went." She took another large bite off her sandwich.

"Neville was saying something about Snape calling you - " Ron was interrupted by Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Weasley! Let the poor girl eat before you badger her with silly questions," she said, glaring at Ron. "Where are your manners? Honestly! I let you eat, now let her eat." He looked slightly stricken and took a sandwich from the platter as if unsure of what to say. She turned back to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, you must be wondering about Severus," McGonagall said in a gentle voice. Hermione nodded. "Well, Hagrid contacted me through the floo with an update before the boys arrived. His condition is critical, but he's been stabilized. The damage to his organs from the venom was minimal and much of it was flushed out of his system as he bled. They're having some problems getting the wound on his neck to close properly, but other than that, it seems he will be just fine. That is, if the Healers don't kill him once he wakes up." She sighed and shook her head. "They are absolutely livid that he had developed such a potent Blood-Replenishing Potion without sharing his findings. Typical Severus, I suppose."

"That's rather rotten of him...keeping something secret that might've saved lives," Harry mumbled.

"I think Severus was far too busy protecting your lives with his own to worry about saving more lives with research notes, Mr. Potter. Besides, the method would likely have fallen into the hands of the wrong side, with corruption running rampant the way it is these days. Though, he'll no doubt feel remorse. Also typical Severus." She donned a sad smile and Hermione found she suddenly couldn't meet her Professor's eyes.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I believe you owe me a thorough explanation," she said. "I have spent months not knowing what to believe or who to trust. I did consult with Albus shortly after Miss Granger found Severus, but I'd like to hear everything from you. He has a tendency to make explanations more difficult than they need to be."

Without hesitation, Harry began to recount everything, from his private lessons the prior year with Dumbledore to Snape's memories he witnessed in the Pensieve. Hermione could tell that he was relieved to finally be able to divulge this information to his former Head of House. She could almost see the weight lift off of his shoulders.

Professor McGonagall also began to look relieved, though a wide range of emotions played on her face during Harry's narrative: shock, anger, triumph, sadness. Hermione didn't know if it was the lines of worry leaving her face or relief, but by the time Harry stopped speaking, she looked to be years younger.

"Thank you," McGonagall whispered. Harry nodded but didn't speak. Hermione could see that he was swallowing back the lump that had likely built up in his throat. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, each looking down to their own lap. Finally, Harry spoke.

"So, Hermione," he said. She looked up at him and was rather surprised to find that he had a small smile on his face. "What _is_ this Neville was saying about Snape calling you beautiful?" Ron's head snapped up and he looked at her with a frown.

"That's Professor Snape, Harry," she corrected. "And he was delirious. He also called me annoying, I might add." It was probably the first time she didn't feel hurt by the Professor insulting her. She wouldn't have known what to feel if had simply called her beautiful.

"How do you know he was delirious?" Ron asked, his cheeks becoming slightly pink. Hermione rubbed her chin as though deeply contemplating his question.

"Hmm - let's see. Oh yes, could it have been the fact that he had been bleeding pints upon pints of blood? Or maybe that he was injected with Merlin knows how much snake venom when Nagini bit him?" she asked sarcastically. "Honestly Ron, there's no reason to get upset."

"I'm not upset," Ron shot back rather unconvincingly. "But I still don't like the idea of that old bat calling you beautiful." At this point, Harry began to laugh out loud. Professor McGonagall turned her sharp eyes on Harry in surprise.

"What do you find so funny?" she asked.

"I just can't believe Ron's jealous of Professor Snape! I mean, honestly, this is the former Head of Slytherin we're talking about!" Harry said, composing himself.

"So?" said Ron, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

"So, he can't stand Hermione! She's the worst sort of Gryffindor there is, besides you and me. Have you forgotten?" Harry drew himself up in his chair, straightening his shoulders proudly and crossing his arms over his chest. He cleared his throat. "Insufferable know-it-all," Harry slowly mimicked in an exaggerated deep voice. Harry leaned back in his chair still smiling.

"I guess you're right," Ron said, seeming to relax a little.

"Of course I am," said Harry. "And then there's my mum to consider. She was the love of his life. Even if he were to fall for someone again, the last person it would be is Herm-"

"Mr. Potter, that is quite enough!" Professor McGonagall cut in.

Hermione was relieved. She found that Harry's words were making her stomach lurch inexplicably. She had been about to blurt out that Lily had been a Gryffindor too, but she was glad she hadn't. That would've made Ron very (though unnecessarily) suspicious.

"I'm sorry 'Mione. Harry's right, there's no way that greasy-"

"Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall cut in again. "I said – that's enough!" She threw them both a scathing look that would have given any first year an instant heart attack. She waited out the tense silence for a few moments then continued. "Thank you. Now, Miss Granger, if I am not mistaken, the wand you're holding belongs to Severus. Am I correct?"

Hermione felt her cheeks start to burn. Without realizing it, she must have drawn his wand from her pocket. She had been comfortably rolling it between her fingers. "Yes, this is his wand," she muttered, not meeting her Professor's eyes.

"I see. And why did you not turn this over to me earlier?" she asked, her eyebrows now raised in curiosity.

"Well, Professor," she said slowly, trying to compose a coherent answer. "You see – it's really just that – well, ah, I forgot?" It sounded more like a question than an answer. She looked up to see McGonagall studying her with thinned lips. Ron and Harry were looking at her, confused. She dropped her eyes back to her lap, unable to meet anyone's gaze.

"Well, you can hand it over now and I'll make sure it gets to Severus right away." She held out her hand to receive the wand.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, much louder than she had intended. All three of jumped at her outburst. "Um – that is to say, ah, I'd like to deliver it to him myself."

"Bloody hell, Hermione." Ron looked angry again. "Why?"

"Because I want to, Ronald," she said, crossing her arms and frowning at both boys, daring them to speak. Even Harry now looked at her as though she were insane.

"Very well. I think that can be arranged," said McGonagall. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, you are dismissed. I'm sure that Mrs. Weasley would be glad for your presence."

Harry and Ron both looked at her with suddenly drawn faces and nodded. Hermione knew that the words "Mrs." and "Weasley" cast any questions about Professor Snape and the wand from their minds immediately. They both now seemed more interested in staring down at the desk and cleaning their fingernails. She pushed the thoughts that they were no doubt having to the back of her mind. She wasn't ready to face them yet, and neither were they, she suspected.

"Miss Granger, I'd like you to stay behind so that we can discuss bringing your parents back from Australia." Hermione looked up, feeling an unexpected burst of joy. She'd be so happy to see her parents again. She had missed them terribly, not to mention she'd been dying to have her teeth cleaned for months now.

"Will you be okay?" she asked Harry and Ron.

"We'll be fine," Harry said as they all stood up from their chairs. Hermione walked over and gave him a hug. She turned to Ron.

"And you'll be all right?" she asked, her eyes now brimming with tears.

"I'll manage," he said, giving her a faint, brave smile. He pulled her into a tight hug and kissed the top of her head. "Will you come and stay at the Burrow until your parents are home? Mum will want you to to be with us, and...I want you to be with us too."

"Of course," she said. Ron bent down and kissed her wetly on the forehead.

"Send an owl when you know your plans."

"I will," she said, unwrapping her arms from Ron. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye Professor," Harry said, and they made their way to the door.

"My thoughts are with you both," McGonagall said. "Hogwarts is always open to you if you ever need anything." She smiled kindly at the boys.

"Thanks Professor," Harry said as he gave a final wave and stepped out of the room with Ron. The moment the door closed behind them, Professor McGonagall turned to Hermione and motioned for her to sit down again.

"So, tell me about the wand."

* * *

A/N: Thanks a million to coliemcnoly and Mezzo Princess for beta-reading.


	7. Apprehension and Talking Frogs

_Disclaimer: Still not mine...belongs to JKR...I'm just having a bit of fun with her characters._

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**Apprehension and Talking Frogs**

"_Tell me about the wand."_

"But what about my parents?" Hermione asked, trying to change the subject.

"It was a smart move on your part to inform Arthur Weasley of the actions you took to protect your parents. He knows you must be anxious to see them and has already assembled a recovery team," Professor McGonagall said, pulling a parchment from her desk and pushing an ink bottle and quill closer to Hermione. "I only need you to write down their exact location and aliases, and he'll have them brought back as soon as possible. Barring any complications, by this time day after tomorrow, they should be home safe, correct identities and memories restored."

"Thanks," Hermione said, taking the quill in hand.

She began to write her parents' information, wishing she had chosen names longer than 'Wendell and Monica Wilkins'. She didn't know why she was so hesitant to discuss the wand with Professor McGonagall, but she was, and it bothered her. McGonagall waited patiently, summoning a tea service from the kitchens. She was already sipping a cup when when Hermione finally replaced the quill in the ink bottle. She had taken her time writing everything down, and she knew this probably only raised her Professor's suspicions.

Not wasting a moment, McGonagall took the parchment and set it aside. "I'll take this to the owlery personally, but first, the wand. I can see something's wrong. Tell me about it, dear."

Hermione took a deep breath and said, "After I cast _Mobilicorpus_ on Professor Snape, I saw his wand on the ground, so I..." Her voiced trailed off and she held the wand tightly, almost defensively.

"So you what?" said McGonagall, looking concerned.

"I picked it up," Hermione said in a quiet voice. "And then, well, it was odd really - it was like holding my own wand for the first time, but more intense. I felt a connection to it immediately. I've...I've never felt so connected to a wand before, not even my own."

"Interesting," said McGonagall, beginning to tap her fingers lightly on the desk. "And did the wand react?"

"Yes. It shot green sparks, which seems odd too. When my wand chose me at Ollivander's, it shot red sparks."

"As did my wand, if I remember correctly. This is very interesting, if not slightly distressing. I know wands do switch allegiances from time to time, though it is usually the direct result of a wizard usurping another." She paused, contemplating. "I do not pretend to be knowledgeable in wandlore, but I do know some facts, and I have never heard of a wand leaving a master for another of its own accord. Did you cast any spells on Severus?"

Hermione thought for a moment, then said, "I did try a healing charm on his neck, but it didn't do anything. Then, of course, _Mobilicorpus_. That's it though."

"I don't think those spells would cause such a reaction in a wand," said McGonagall.

"Professor?" Hermione said, looking down at the wand nervously. "What if Professor Snape's wand doesn't work for him anymore?"

"I doubt that could happen. Although..." Professor McGonagall began to study Hermione in an almost calculating manner. "Have you tried to use either wand since this happened?" Hermione went through the events since the Shrieking Shack and then shook her head.

"No, the last spell I cast was before I picked up his wand."

"I see. Well, let's try them out, shall we? Your wand first, if you please," McGonagall said.

Hermione drew her own wand from her pocket and placed Snape's wand on the desk in front of her. She pointed her wand at the quill sitting in the ink bottle and muttered, "_Wingardium Leviosa_". The quill twitched, but did not levitate. Hermione gasped in confusion. She'd always been able to perform that spell with ease. She narrowed her eyes in concentration and tried again. This time, the quill jumped a little, but still didn't float.

"My wand!" She was looking at Professor McGonagall, her eyes wide in shock.

"Are you sure that this is your wand?" she asked.

"Of course I'm sure," Hermione said. "Though, I guess it doesn't feel my like my wand. It feels like someone else's. Worse than someone else's, actually. It feels...almost broken."

Professor McGonagall gestured for Hermione to hand her the wand. Hermione gave it to her and she began to examine it carefully. She lifted it and pointed it at the quill and looked to Hermione and asked, "May I?"

"Of course," said Hermione.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," she said, and the quill immediately sprang from the ink bottle. She let it float for a moment, then guided it back. "Everything seems to be in order with it, so I don't think it's broken," she muttered, looking from the wand to Hermione. "Now, the question is, why is your own wand refusing to work for you?"

Hermione shrugged and shook her head, her jaw still slack with shock. McGonagall placed Hermione's wand on the desk next to Snape's. Hermione realised that she was correct in thinking that her vine wand would look drab next to his dark wand – it did.

"Perhaps it is your..." McGonagall's voice trailed off. She sighed, then continued, "Do not take this the wrong way, dear, but perhaps it is your magic, not the wand, that caused the spell to fail."

"What?" Hermione almost shouted.

"There's no need to be offended, Miss Granger," she said. "You're the brightest student Hogwarts has seen since...well, since Severus Snape actually."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but closed it when she realized that she didn't know what to say.

"Sometimes," McGonagall said gently, "a traumatic experience can cause one's magic to fail. Many times, it's only a temporary condition. I'm afraid that failing magic is far more common than a wand that stops working for its owner for no obvious reason. Now, we won't know anything until you try another wand." She gestured at Snape's wand.

Hermione took it up eagerly, wanting to prove (mostly to herself) that her magic hadn't failed. She pointed it at the quill and incanted the spell. Before the last syllable left her lips, she could feel the magic at her fingertips. It was an unusual, yet empowering sensation. The quill gracefully lifted from the bottle. Hermione sighed audibly in relief and guided the quill back to its place. She smiled and looked up to see Professor McGonagall frowning at her as though she had just lost Gryffindor the House Cup.

"What is it Professor?" she asked, suddenly feeling as though she had done something wrong.

"I'm not sure, but a trip to visit Albus is in order," McGonagall said. She continued to look at Hermione, but her face softened. "But that can wait. You, my dear, need rest. You'll find that your old bed is ready and waiting for you."

"Thank you," said Hermione, relieved. She had begun to feel an exhaustion like she had never felt before creep over her.

Professor McGonagall nodded in acknowledgement then said, "Well, go on! I need to get to the owlery to send your parents' information to Kingsley, then it's off to bed myself. We need to rest while we can; we have a lot to face when we wake up."

After they bid their farewell's, Hermione took the two wands and headed straight for Gryffindor tower. She didn't notice how quiet Hogwarts truly was until she reached the common room. It didn't appear that anyone was there but her.

_Of course, _she thought sadly, _everyone must be with their families._

She made her way to her bed in the girl's dormitory and placed her wand on the night stand while holding onto Snape's. She kicked off her trainers and fell into bed, fully clothed. Feeling painfully alone, she clutched his wand to her chest and began to cry.

She cried hard and angry for a time, punching her pillow and coughing uncontrollably with the heaving of her chest. How could the world be so cruel? Leaving a baby without his parents, a twin without his other half, countless families torn apart. She could've fought harder! She curled herself in a ball, rocking and digging her nails into her arms, chastising herself for not saving them. 'What if's' whirled through her mind.

She cried and cried, until her body gave to quiet whimpers. Her lips shook but her breathing slowed. Her mind started to relax, but the faces of the fallen still drifted through it. At least she had managed to help Professor Snape. It was with this thought that she finally drifted into a deep sleep, his wand still clutched tight against her chest.

* * *

She was having a rather odd dream about a talking frog poking her in the ribs with a stick when she became aware that the pain was real.

"Ow!" she cried, her eyes flying open. It was then that she realised the voice of the talking frog was really that of the ancient house-elf, Kreacher.

"Master Harry's friend must wake up," he croaked, poking her hard through the blankets with a bony finger.

"Ouch! I'm awake!" she said, sitting up in bed and rubbing the sore spot on her ribs. She looked toward the high window and realized that it was getting light outside. She must've slept the entire afternoon and through the night.

"Master Harry's friend must get up! Must hurry!" Kreacher said. "Deputy Headmistress requests that Master's friend meet her in the entrance hall right away."

Hermione yawned loudly and began to lie down again when she saw Kreacher lift a straightened finger. He gave her a look that clearly said: _go on, I dare you_. She shuddered, her ribs still throbbing. She threw the covers off and hopped out of bed. She was still fully clothed, but wrinkled. She went to her old wardrobe and found that it contained a single set of her robes.

"Thank you, Kreacher," she said to the house-elf, feeling slighly annoyed when he bowed with a mischevious glint in his eyes. Without another word, there was a loud crack and he vanished.

"Harry and Ron have been a terrible influence on that poor creature," she muttered angrily as she pulled the robes from the wardrobe over her crinkled clothing. Rather than fight her hair, she pulled it back, tying it near the nape of her neck.

Without another glance or thought at her appearance (they were just going to visit Dumbledore's portrait afterall), she took both wands and headed out to meet Professor McGonagall. She had been tempted to take a slight detour by the kitchens to quiet her growling stomach, but was glad she hadn't when she arrived at the entrance hall. There she found Professor McGonagall waiting, tapping a foot, and looking quite impatient.

"There you are," she called rather waspishly.

"I'm sorry Professor," Hermione said, looking at her feet. "I think Kreacher may have had a hard time waking me."

"I guess that is to be expected after the events of the last few days," she said, flicking her wand at the entrance doors. They swung open to reveal a grey and misty morning.

"I thought we were going to see Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, looking confused as she began to follow McGonagall out of the castle.

"I'm afraid we don't have time for that at the moment."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, quickening her pace to keep up. Professor McGonagall suddenly stopped, causing them to nearly collide.

"Because," she said, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder, "Severus has woken up far sooner than anyone expected."

"Oh," was all Hermione managed to say.

"And apparently," McGonagall said as she turned and started to walk briskly to the apparition point, "he's in a rather foul mood."

Hermione swallowed hard and began to follow, suddenly feeling a bit ill.

* * *

A/N: Thanks a million to Mezzo Princess for beta-reading!


	8. Healer Arangia

_Disclaimer: Still belongs to JKR._

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**Healer Arangia**

Pain as Severus had never known pounded through his entire body. It felt as though dragon fire flowed through his veins. He didn't know where he was, but he knew he couldn't be dead, unless death meant torture.

He opened his eyes and saw a woman looking down at him. His vision was blurred, but he could see that she was glowing with youth and radiating intelligence. He felt his eyebrows twitch in confusion when his eyes focused on the face of none other than Hermione Granger. He drew a slight breath of surprise, his congested lungs screaming in protest.

"Beautiful," he managed to rasp.

He knew he must be dreaming. How could this beautiful woman be that infuriating girl who plagued him the last seven years? His hand began to feel around to see if his surroundings were solid. He felt a hand clasp his and immediately, a comforting warmth spread through his entire body. The pain became a background noise to the soothing sensation sweeping over him.

"Miss...Granger?"

Could this really be her?

"So...annoying...so...beautiful..."

He felt exhausted, he knew he couldn't hold on much longer. He concentrated on the warmth as darkness began to envelope him again.

* * *

A stabbing throb in his neck caused his eyes to fly open. He was greeted by a blinding brightness.

"Why won't it stop bleeding?" he heard a small voice squeak. Panic set in when he felt pressure being applied to his wound, causing pain to shoot through his body and he moaned in pain.

"Merlin's beard! He's awake!" This time it was a male's voice he heard.

"Bloody hell," he heard the small voice say as a cold sensation began to circulate through his veins. Before he could protest, the bright lights dimmed to black.

* * *

Comfortable and relaxed, Severus took a deep breath and sensed that his lungs hurt. His mind immediately felt out the rest of his body, noting that he felt weak as though he were very sick. His neck throbbed slightly and his throat felt raw. He was laying propped up in what seemed to be a firm bed.

He opened his eyes and scanned the darkened room. It was small and windowless, having space enough for only the bed, a bedside cabinet, and two chairs. His nostrils flared as they recognized the sterile scent of a hospital. Confused, he drew a shaking hand from beneath the blankets and brought it to his neck. When his hands met a thick layer of bandages, memories of Nagini biting him flooded his mind.

_I must get out of here,_ he thought, his hands patting on and around his body for his wand. Not finding it, he threw the covers off and slowly drew himself into a sitting position. He slid his legs off the side of the bed and cautiously stood up. He placed a steadying hand on the cabinet next to the bed and took a tentative step forward. Before he could take another, the room was suddenly flooded with light. His head snapped up to find a small, but very round woman with a tray in her hands gaping at him.

"You're..."she gasped. "You're not supposed to be awake yet! Much less out of bed!" Her voice was high pitched and squeaked in a way that made every last muscle in Severus's body shudder.

His eyes swam in tears at the painful and glaring brilliance of it all. Her robes were lime green, her cheeks were a shiny pink, and her hair the brightest orange he had ever seen. He faltered a little and felt a wave of nausea hit him as he thought of rainbow sherbet. She rushed over and put her tray on one of the chairs and guided him back to the bed. He was too dizzy to protest.

"Dreadful robes...I must be in St. Mungo's," he rasped, each word like sandpaper on his throat.

"Right you are," she said, her voice seeming to pierce his eardrums.

"Must you speak so loud?" he asked, cringing.

"No," she said simply, not lowering her voice. "Now, you should be asleep. We've administered enough potion to keep you asleep for days. It seems you are resistant to it." She stepped over to her tray and moved it from the chair to the bedside cabinet. It had numerous bottles of potions and some clean dressings. He also saw an empty decanter with a glass and he looked at it hungrily.

"I suppose it's safe for you to have a glass of water. Just drink slowly," she said, flicking her wand, and the decanter and glass filled with clear liquid. Severus grabbed the glass and ignored her advisory, gulping it down desperately. Finishing it, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I have to leave," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Where's my wand?"

"You are not going anywhere," she said firmly. "And you were brought here without a wand."

"Who brought me?" he asked, slightly breathless.

"A big smelly bloke. Very friendly," she said.

_Hagrid_, he thought.

"I'm Healer Arangia by the way. Oh, and if you weren't yet aware, You-Know-Who is dead," she said, almost making it sound as though it were an after-thought. She began to pull the lids off of the bottles on her tray. "And I've been stuck here, tending to a hospital full of injuries, while the entire wizarding world celebrates." She shook her head and dripped a few drops of one of the potions onto a cloth. "Come on now, I need to redress your - ."

"I have to get out of here," he interrupted, ignoring her completely and standing up. A firm hand pushed him back onto the bed. He growled in frustration.

"I already told you," Healer Arangia's voice was squeaking more prominently now, "you are not going anywhere! Now, don't make me call Barney!"

"Call _Barney_ if you wish, I am leaving," he said, standing up again and looking toward the door. He wanted her to think that he was going to make a dash for it, though they both knew he wasn't strong enough to make it. He began to move, but instead of heading for the exit, he moved in on the Healer, trying to grab her wand.

"Barney!" she screeched so loudly that he had to let go of the fighting witch to cover his ears. The next second, he was back on the bed, unable to move any part of his body except his eyes, which darted around in fury.

"I said - you are not going anywhere! You are in no condition to leave! Are you suicidal?" she squeaked with a clenched jaw. Her pink cheeks were now red, and her orange hair wild. "Honestly! I've been here all night, literally saving your neck and you _attack _me? The nerve!"

"You called?" a deep voice said. Severus strained his eyes toward the doorway to see a man almost as large as Hagrid (though not as hairy). His lime green robes did nothing to diminish his girth.

"I have it under control now Barney, thank you," she said, straightening her hair. "Will you please send an urgent owl to one Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts. Let her know that Severus Snape has woken up."

"Right away, Healer Arangia," he said, looking happy to have a job that didn't involve restraining patients.

"Oh, and we may as well warn her that he'll be in a rather foul mood," she called to him as he left the room. He grunted in response. She turned to Severus.

"Now," she said, leaning over him and tapping her wand in her hand in an almost taunting manner, "I'll lift the full body bind once I've redressed your wound and am safely out of your reach. I'm tempted to put you out again, but I believe Minerva will want to speak to you straight away. Don't even think about trying to leave again. Barney'll be guarding your door after that little display, I assure you."

Though still furious, Severus relaxed a little because it was Minerva that he had wanted to go and see. Healer Arangia began to remove the old bandages from his neck, tutting and muttering something about hours of work down the drain. It had started throbbing painfully and suspected it had begun to bleed again. He stared at the ceiling, running the method of various potions through his head to try and calm his angry, boiling blood.

* * *

A/N: A million thanks to Mezzo Princess and coliemcnoly for beta-reading!


	9. The Wand Doesn't Choose the Wizard

Disclaimer: Still belongs to JKR and all of her people...

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**The Wand Does Not Choose the Wizard**

Severus sat propped up in the stiff hospital bed with his arms crossed, frowning deeply. His hair was a clean but matted mess, lying flat in the back and sticking out in odd angles at the front. His hospital gown was grey and (much to his relief) not lime green like the bedding.

Healer Arangia was true to her word that Barney would now be guarding him. He was squeezed into a chair that was placed next to the entrance of the room, immersed in reading the special early edition of the Daily Prophet. Barney spent a painfully long time reading the front page, mouthing each syllable and casting nervous glances toward Severus as he did so. Finally, he flipped the paper over and Severus could see the headlines:

**Harry Potter Prevails! **

**The Fall of a Dark Wizard **

**Hogwarts Under Siege: Stories of Heroism and Tragedy**

When his eyes met a particularly bad picture of himself with the caption, "Headmaster Snape: Hero or Villain?", he stopped reading immediately and decided that the wall in front of him was much more interesting.

He had been wondering why there weren't Aurors pounding down the door to finally arrest him for murdering Dumbledore. He was sure that it was only a matter of time. Now that the Dark Lord had fallen, people would start pointing fingers, and who better to point at than he?

He continued to stare at the wall and again tried to recall the events prior to his hospitalization. He remembered Nagini striking him and Potter appearing out of nowhere. He knew that he had given the boy some of his memories out of desperation, but he couldn't remember which. He found that in his weakened state, he was rather relieved for this. He was sure the memories were of a very personal nature, and if he knew which ones they were, weak or not, wand or no wand, he'd probably be fighting his way out of the hospital to hunt down the boy and Obliviate him.

He couldn't remember anything after giving Potter the memories. All he knew for sure was that he felt different now. He felt changed. Here he was - weak, wandless, _and_ being held captive in a hospital bed - feeling freer than ever before, when really, he should feel like a prisoner. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the Dark Lord was dead. Maybe it was that Dumbledore was still only a portrait, to which he felt no longer felt an obligation. Whatever it was, it felt good, and this made Severus scowl. He knew there must be something else, something more, that brought on this feeling. He just couldn't think of what it was at the moment.

"Must you breathe so loud?" Severus grumbled at Barney. "You're worse than an overgrown niffler."

Barney didn't respond, but looked over his newspaper at him nervously. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Has it ever occurred to you _not _to believe everything you read?" he said smoothly. Barney's face relaxed a little until Severus stretched his arms (making it look an innocent enough gesture), making sure he got an eyeful of the Dark Mark on his forearm. He didn't look over when he heard Barney gasp. The rumpling sound of paper probably meant that the big oaf was hiding behind the Prophet again. Severus smirked.

* * *

"...attacked me...no respect...mentally unstable..."

He began to hear some of Healer Arangia's high pitched words carry through the door. He knew that meant Minerva McGonagall must have arrived. Not bothering to smooth down his wild hair, he worked his face into a bored expression just as the door opened and McGonagall stepped in.

"Severus," she said, her lips thinned.

"Minerva. To what to I owe this," he paused and curled his upper lip into a subtle sneer, "_pleasure_?"

"I see a brush with death has done nothing for your attitude," she said, her hands now placed on her hips in a disapproving manner. "Attacking a St. Mungo's Healer! I never - "

"Indeed, you haven't, but I have," he interrupted, his sneer becoming a twisted smile. His sharp eyes swept over her. "It appears that you don't have my wand. Is it, perhaps, that you have come to finish me?"

"As tempted as I may be, that is not why I am here," she said. She turned to Barney, who had been watching their exchange with obvious interest. "Could we have some privacy?" she snapped at him. He flushed and struggled to pry himself from the chair. Finally succeeding, he rushed out of the door. She shut it behind him and turned back to Severus.

"Believe me when I say," she lowered her voice to a threatening whisper stepped toward him, "that with one word, _one word,_ Severus, I could have you carted off to Azkaban faster than you could say Salazar. It's only on the word of Mr. Potter and myself that you remain free. There are a lot of people out there that would love to see you rot in prison, forever." Severus held her gaze but kept his face expressionless.

"Well, if you've come to neither kill nor imprison me, why _are _you here? I'm obviously in no condition to receive visitors," he said silkily, gesturing at his bandaged neck.

"Yet you feel well enough to attack one of St. Mungo's finest Healers?" she asked, her eyebrows raised incredulously.

"Quite," Severus agreed with slightest inclination of his head.

"You truly are impossible, Severus," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. She took a deep breath then continued. "Though I must be insane for doing so, I am indeed here to return your wand."

"My wand. Where is it?" Severus asked, his eyes flashing. McGonagall ignored him.

"I guess if Albus trusted you, and now it seems Potter trusts you, I too must tru -"

"WHERE IS MY WAND?" Severus shouted, causing pain to shoot through his throat so intensely that he clapped his hands around it and squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel blood start to leak through his bandages. Not a second later the door burst open (nearly knocking McGonagall down) and Healer Arangia came bustling in looking furious.

"Honestly, now this man is disturbing the peace, and if..." she cut her own words off and rushed to Severus, "Oh my, you've done it now, haven't you? At this rate, you're never getting out of here! These puncture wounds won't heal if you keep reopening them. Now, move your hands!"

Severus held tight, not moving them, glaring daggers at her. She began to gently pry his hands open.

"I just do not get paid enough for this. Come on now, you big baby," she muttered. He finally released his hands and fought the urge to clasp them around her neck instead. He felt a cool, soothing sensation as she muttered spells and worked her wand in intricate patterns around his neck

"Now," she said, turning to McGonagall, "we need to redress the wounds and get him cleaned up. Will you excuse us?" She nodded and turned to leave.

"My wand," Severus croaked. McGonagall stopped in the doorway.

"I'll be waiting right outside until Healer Arangia has you fixed up again," she said, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her. Severus glowered; he wanted his wand now.

* * *

Half an hour later, Severus was propped up in his bed again, his hair a little more ruffled and wild. He had allowed Healer Arangia to redress his neck without incident, but when she started to pull off his bloodied hospital gown, he insisted that he could do that himself, _in private. _She looked slightly disappointed, but dropped a clean garment in his lap and left to go stand outside the door, muttering something that sounded like, "who do you think put you into the gown you've got on now?".

There was a gentle knock on the door, and in walked McGonagall and -

"Miss Granger," he hissed, his eyes narrowing. He looked back to McGonagall and said, "I demand that she leave immediately." He was suddenly very aware of the state that his hair was in, but he also couldn't help but to note her appearance was rather unkempt as well.

"Sir," Hermione spoke softly, "I've come to -"

"I don't care why you are here," he interrupted. "I only care that you leave. Now."

"Severus!" McGonagall cried. "That's no way to talk to the woman who saved your life!" Hermione cast her eyes to the floor, looking more than a little frightened. This was not enough to stop the rage from welling up inside of him.

"Saved my life?" he whispered dangerously. "I'll not have another arrogant Gryffindor dangling a life debt in my face. I'll have you know that she did _not_ save my life. Most unfortunately, that honour would first go to Dumbledore, for warning me of Nagini's attack. Second, it would go to me, for developing and brewing that most unique and powerful Blood-Replenishing Potion. But I assure you, the very last person it would go to is _her_!" He pointed a shaking finger at her, his face contorted in anger. The searing pain in his throat was almost forgotten, and it took all of his control to keep his voice from raising into a scream.

"Well," McGonagall said, "if that's how you feel, we'll just be leaving then." She took a stunned Hermione by the shoulders began to guide her out.

"My wand?" he breathed.

Hermione broke away from McGonagall and drew his wand from her sleeve. Her tearful brown eyes met his, and she held the wand out to him. With narrowed eyes, he reached for it, fully intending to yank it away with force, but as soon as his fingers touched the wood, he felt a calming, pleasurable warmth flow through his body. His mind was flooded with images he hadn't remembered: her looking down at him in the Shrieking Shack, her comforting touch, her glowing youth, and her unique beauty. He held her surprised, wet eyes with his, but kept his grasp on the wand firm and motionless, not wanting this strange moment to pass. But she let go, and he suddenly felt cold and empty. Stunned, his eyes came into focus just in time to see her run from the room.

"Severus, we'll need to talk," McGonagall said, before rushing out of the door to follow Hermione.

He blinked and looked down at his wand. It was then realized that it didn't _feel_ like his wand at all. He turned it in his hands saw it looked like his wand, but something wasn't right. He raised it and flicked it at his water glass. It trembled, but nothing else happened. His eyebrows furrowed, and he flicked it again. And again.

* * *

A/N: Forgot to mention in the last chapter..."Arangia" is the Late Latin word for "orange". Given the vivid orange color of her hair, I couldn't resist.

I'm looking forward to delving deeper into the wandlore aspect of this story.

Thanks to coliemcnoly for beta-reading. Mezzo Princess is ill, so she didn't have a chance to beta read this chapter before I posted. All of my well wishes are with her!


	10. Checking Out

Disclaimer: ...still belongs to JKR...

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**Checking Out**

Severus ripped the covers off his legs and pulled himself out of bed, his wand fisted tightly in his right hand. Any weakness he felt had been quickly overpowered by the rage that rippled through him. He began to stagger from the room, glad that Healer Arangia hadn't yet replaced Barney at his entry door post.

He turned left from his room and began down the corridor, his eyes squinted against the bright greens and whites that surrounded him. His swimming head forced him to walk much slower than he would have liked. He wasn't exactly sure where he was going, only that he had to find Miss Granger. _Granger. _The name pounded in his mind. Each step he took caused a syllable to ring in his ears like the clang of a hammer on an anvil. _Gran-ger. Gran-ger._

Severus didn't acknowledge the squeaking voice screaming at him to get back into bed. He rounded a corner, still making slow progress, and walked directly into a very large, solid mass.

"He-healer Arangia said to get back into b-bed," Barney stuttered, looking a little angry, but mostly nervous.

"I'm checking out," Severus snarled, taking a step back. He whisked his wand through the air and to Barney's eye level so fast, it could be heard cutting through the air like a whip. Barney went cross-eyed to look at the tip, and whimpered. "Now, unless you wish to attempt and stop me, I suggest you get out of my way."

Barney swallowed visibly and stepped to the side, away from the wand and out of Severus's way.

"We were on the verge of booting you as it were!" he heard Healer Arangia squeal after him.

Severus continued forward, swaying dangerously as his head spun. He decided the best place to look first would be the lobby, so he continued on, using the walls as a guiding support and navigating the maze of halls by following the signs. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he reached the lobby. He growled audibly when his eyes rested on Miss Granger and Minerva McGonagall, looking as though they were have a tender Gryffindor heart-to-heart. He swallowed hard against his sudden urge to vomit.

* * *

Hermione had run from Professor Snape's room overwhelmed with a kaleidescope of emotions. As soon as his fingers had touched the wand, her mind was inundated with images of herself that were exaggeratedly beautiful. She was sure that she had never seen herself glowing like that before. She wondered if it was what Professor Snape had seen when he awoke in the Shrieking Shack.

She was sure he too had felt something when he touched the wand. His black eyes that usually seemed empty were in sharp focus and had held hers intensely, and like in a trance, she hadn't been able look away. It was almost as though they had shared some sort of connection through the wand. For her, the most confusing aspect of the whole experience was that it had been pleasant, comforting, and somehow, it just felt _right, _which of course, seemed completely wrong.

It had taken all her willpower to release the wand, and as soon as she had, she felt hopelessly lonely, like she might never feel such a link to someone again. She felt empty, as though she might never be whole again, only half a person. She had wanted to reach for the wand again, but instead, she forced herself to run away.

"Miss Granger?" It wasn't until she heard herself being addressed did Hermione realize that she was standing in the middle of St. Mungo's lobby, staring off into thin air.

"Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall repeated, sounding breathless. "Are you okay?" Hermione took a deep breath and turned to her Professor that approached from behind.

"I'm fine," Hermione said, forcing a weak smile to her lips.

"A woman of my age," McGonagall panted, "should not be made to run that fast."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. She hadn't meant to be followed.

"That's quite alright," McGonagall said, fanning herself with a hand. "Let's find a bench and have a sit, shall we?"

Hermione guided Professor McGonagall to a nearby bench. They sat in silence for a few minutes, McGonagall still catching her breath. Hermione took her own wand from her robes and studied it. For some reason, she could sense that it still wasn't going to work for her. She felt oddly disconnected from it, as though it were just a stick that she might have picked up from the ground. Hermione felt McGonagall's eyes on her, and she looked up to find her watching her curiously.

"What happened back there?" she asked. Hermione shrugged.

"I'm really not sure. It was almost like Professor Snape and I..." Her voice trailed off as she tried to decide what word to use.

"Connected?" McGonagall offered.

"Yes, I suppose so. It was like we connected through the wand," Hermione said.

"I must say, I was rather shocked when Severus didn't yank the wand out of your hand. You both froze on the spot. The look on Severus's face...he just looked so relaxed," McGonagall said, a slight smile brushing her lips. "It must have been quite the connection to calm a man as stubborn as he is."

Hermione didn't have a chance to respond because she looked up to see Professor Snape staggering toward them in his papery gray hospital gown. It didn't cover his legs and Hermione felt a blush warm her cheeks as her eyes swept over them. They were absurdly white and covered with scraggly black hairs. They were thin and resembled pipes that were jointed with very knobby knees. His feet were bare and she was surprised to see he had well groomed toenails, she would've imagined them to be yellowed and overgrown.

Hermione might have giggled if she hadn't seen his face. He looked utterly deranged. His facial expression was rigid and she could see a vein pulsing at his temple. His crooked teeth were bared and his bloodshot eyes were narrowed at her murderously. She couldn't help but to gasp out loud. Professor McGonagall looked up and saw him just as he approached their bench.

"Oh dear," she said, standing up and to move in front of Hermione, splaying her arms like a shield.

"What-did-you-do-to-my-wand?" he growled, his eyes boring into Hermione like daggers. Each word was spoken with great restraint, as though it took all his power to keep his voice lowered.

"Severus, I really don't think you should be out of bed," McGonagall said, taking a few steps back from him.

"I've checked out," he hissed, not tearing his eyes from Hermione. "Again, I ask you, girl, what did you do to my wand?" His voice was growing louder. He raised his wand and Hermione could see that he was shaking, probably in anger.

"I-I...uh...well, that is to say-"

"Spit it out! Is it that the know-it-all can't answer a question?" He looked her up and down accusingly. "Or is it that you're too afraid to tell me that you've broken my wand?"

"No! I didn't break it!" Hermione retorted.

"Admit it! You broke it!" he spat, looking as though he were ready to push McGonagall out of the way and attack her.

"I assure you Severus," McGonagall said calmly, her palms open toward Snape in a pleading gesture, "Miss Granger did not break your wand. She was able to perform perfect magic with it yesterday."

This seemed to make Snape even more upset, and Hermione began to feel frightened as his eyes continued to burn into hers. She had the distinct feeling he was trying to penetrate her mind.

"Ah, so you stole it!" he shrieked, spit flying from his mouth. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice again. "Attacking a dying man, that's not a very Gryffindor thing for you to do, Miss Granger."

This was too much for Hermione. She shot up from the bench and lunged past McGonagall toward him, feeling suddenly very furious. Snape took a retreating step back and dropped his wand arm.

"Stole?! Attacked?!" she screamed, her voice piercing through the lobby like a siren. She accented each word by jabbing her index finger into his chest. He seemed to be thrown off for a moment by her sudden anger and close proximity, but he quickly recovered and stood his ground. He drew himself up to full height and straightened his chest.

"Apparently being Potter's lap dog isn't enough for you-"

"I ran to help you!" she interrupted, her voice still shrill.

"Yes, you ran to steal the the wand of the Hogwarts Headmaster-" he raised his voice to meet hers. Losing all self-control, they both began to yell, neither really listening to what the other was saying.

"I was completely covered in your blood!"

"Pretending that you wanted to save me!"

"I got you out of there!"

"Tell me, did you attack me before or after you-"

"And you had the exceeding nerve to call me-"

"-showed up looking deceivingly-"

"BEAUTIFUL!" they both shouted at the same time.

They snapped their mouths shut and Hermione removed her finger from his chest. He growled and took another step back. McGonagall took this opportunity to swiftly step between them again, her wand now drawn.

"If you two are quite finished," she shot each of them her most quelling glare, "I think we should discuss this, _as adults_, in a more private setting."

Hermione looked around and saw that a crowd had gathered around to watch them. She heard a chorus of whispers and noticed that almost everyone's eyes were on Snape.

"Um-okay," she muttered, looking at the floor, feeling her cheeks grow hot. Snape didn't speak, but nodded slightly.

"Wonderful," McGonagall said sourly, taking Hermione in one arm and Snape in the other. Hermione was surprised that he didn't pull away. "Now, I think it's best if we all go together, since I'm not sure that you're in any condition to be apparating on your own Severus, and neither of your wands seem to want to cooperate with you. Come on then, let's get moving."

She began to pull them through the parting crowd. Hermione looked behind McGonagall's shoulder to glare at Professor Snape, but rather than glaring back, he just glanced at her with a raised, calculating eyebrow. She realized that this was probably the first he had heard of her wand not working for her either. She looked away, not softening the expression on her face.

"Dumbledore will be glad to see you both. Hopefully he'll have some answers for you, because I do not," McGonagall said. "Also, Severus, there's the little matter of your position of Headmaster to consider."

"You take it," he grumbled. "I want nothing more than to officially resign my position as the Hogwarts Headmaster."

"I'm sure the governors will be both relieved and glad for your resignation. But all in due time. I believe Poppy would like us all to pay her a visit first, especially you Severus. She'll be anxious to get her hands on you and your wounds."

Snape muttered something incoherent, but continued to walk along with McGonagall, not fighting her motherly leading arm.

Hermione allowed herself to be led as well. Her mind was running in circles, trying to sort through all of the questions she wanted to ask Dumbledore.

Somewhere, on the fringes of her brain, the trickling thoughts of Ron were being quickly lost to the rushing thoughts of the connection she had just shared with Professor Snape.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to coliemcnolie for proofreading! I apologize to Mezzo Princess for being impossibly impatient.

Sorry for the longer than usual update wait! I've been battling a cold for a few weeks now and it won out for a few days.

My wand pondering thought of the day: What did Dumbledore do with his original wand when he acquired the Elder Wand?


	11. Wandering Wands

_Disclaimer...and yes...it still belongs to JKR. I'm just a geek who felt compelled to play with her characters._

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**Wandering Wands**

"That was an odd trio if I ever saw one," Rita Skeeter said, elbowing her photographer in the ribs. "You got the pictures, right Frank?"

"Yup," he said, sounding bored.

They had been camped on a bench near the St. Mungo's apparating point for the last few hours. They were supposed to be on assignment to get the scoop on Headmaster Snape's condition, but when Rita saw Hermione Granger arrive with Minerva McGonagall, she knew she had a potentially luscious gossip article that could be squeezed for galleons for weeks.

"Thank Merlin they didn't see us. Now, the question of the day is, why was that Granger girl with Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape? I think we might have a story here." The glee in her voice was evident.

Frank shrugged indifferently and yawned. "We might. Is it lunchtime yet?" he asked, patting a hand on his round belly.

"Honestly, is food the only thing you think about? We have interviews to do," she snapped. He didn't seem to hear her and continued to look around with hooded eyes. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Come on then, I said we have interviews to do!" His sedated appearance didn't change, but nodded.

"Okay then. Lunch later," he sighed.

"First, we need to find out who healed Severus Snape," she said, pulling a pad of paper and quill from her large alligator handbag. Frank yawned again as she began to scan the lobby like a hawk searching for prey.

* * *

Upon manifesting outside of the gates at Hogwarts, Snape promptly released McGonagall's hand, fell to his knees, and puked. Hermione could see that blood had started to seep through the dressings on his neck.

"Oh my," Professor McGonagall said. "Severus, are you okay?" He nodded, still heaving and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. McGonagall offered an arm to help him stand and he took it, struggling to his feet. "Let me conjure a stretcher for you, I really don't think you should be walking."

"No," he said hoarsely. "I can walk."

Before McGonagall could protest, he took one step forward and passed out. Hermione gasped and attempted to catch him, but she was too far away, so he crumpled straight to the ground. McGonagall sprung into action immediately, sending a Patronus toward the castle and conjuring a stretcher. She levitated Snape slightly and moved the stretcher under him.

"I knew he wouldn't be able to walk," McGonagall muttered under her breath, rotating Snape until his back faced down, then gently lowered him onto the stretcher.

"Is he okay?" Hermione asked, concerned.

Before McGonagall could answer, a small snore issued from the direction of the stretcher, followed by mumbled words that sounded suspiciously like 'boomslang' and 'thief'. Hermione felt a blush creep into her cheeks. McGonagall chuckled quietly.

"Poor Severus. He must be exhausted, but I think he'll survive," McGonagall said, flicking her wand toward the gates then at the stretcher, which began to move forward. She walked along side it. "I've let Poppy know that we're on our way."

Hermione nodded and began to walk on the other side of the stretcher, her eyes flitting over her former professor. His hollow cheeks and pallid skin told her that he wasn't well, but she was somehow comforted by the relaxed expression he wore. If he was in pain, his face certainly didn't show it at the moment. His ashen lips were slightly parted and curved into a subtle smile. Hermione had the sudden urge to brush away a strand of black hair that stuck to them. She looked to his large nose and noticed that his nostrils flared faintly with each breath. She couldn't help but to smirk a little.

She allowed her eyes to move from his face to his bandaged neck, then down a pale, wiry arm. She couldn't deny her quickening heartbeat as she admired the sharp contours of his wrist that served as the perfect prologue to his thin, yet elegant, hands. Even in a hospital gown, Hermione realized that Snape seemed to have a striking presence.

"You haven't eaten yet today and I'm sure you're as hungry as I am," McGonagall said, startling Hermione from her thoughts. "Shall we take lunch in the headmaster's study? I'm sure you're anxious to speak to Albus. It might be easier if we speak to him before Severus awoke anyway."

"It would be easier, for me at least. Thanks," Hermione said. She was glad that she'd have the opportunity to ask questions without the scrutinizing eyes of Professor Snape on her, and she realized that it wasn't that she was afraid of him, it was that she was afraid of what he might think of her.

"I think it's best if you stay with the Weasley's tonight. I daresay they'd be glad for your company and support," McGonagall said.

Hermione flushed at being reminded of the Weasley's. She immediately felt guilty that she'd hardly given them a second thought today. With everything that had happened, she'd almost forgotten about Ron and Harry, and being reminded of them brought a cloud of dread to her conscience. Soon she'd have to be with them, fully acknowledging the losses of the war. She knew that they needed her, and in some way, she supposed she needed them too. It was with some trepidation that she realized that this was the longest she'd been away from Harry in nearly a year.

She knew she probably wouldn't be able to share her odd experience with the boys. Ron would likely become unnecessarily jealous and overreact in anger. Harry might understand, but she knew that at the moment, his feelings toward Snape must be mixed worse than a potion brewed by Neville Longbottom. She wouldn't want to burden him with the knowledge that she had accidentally shared a connection with Snape that felt somehow intimate.

"I believe Fred's funeral is set for Friday," McGonagall said quietly, her voice cracking slightly. She looked over at Hermione and smiled with watery eyes. "I woke up today and knew I didn't yet have the strength to accept the deaths of these bright young souls. I scarcely know how you three are functioning."

"I don't think we've accepted much yet either. I think things would be much harder if so much wasn't still happening," Hermione said, looking at the grass as she walked. "I can't deny that I'm scared, Professor. I know the moment I see Mrs. Weasley's face, her tears, I'm going to have to acknowledge the pain I'd rather avoid."

"I suppose we'll all have to acknowlege then accept it at some point. I'm so proud of you. All of you," McGonagall whispered.

They walked in silence until they arrived at the entry doors. McGonagall flicked her wand and they swung open. She stopped and turned to Hermione.

"I'm going to take Severus to the infirmary. You may go on up to the head's tower. The castle has been hard at work repairing itself and you'll find that the gargoyle is back in place. The new temporary password is 'victorious'. I'll be there shortly."

She nodded and stole one final glance at the man sleeping in the stretcher before beginning her journey through the still and silent halls of Hogwarts.

* * *

Hermione stepped into the headmaster's study, and though it had just been yesterday that she was here last, she felt as though she hadn't seen the room in years.

"Ah, Miss Granger." It was Phineas Black's portrait who addressed her first.

"Good day, Mr. Black," she said, smiling faintly at the portrait. She had become oddly fond of the sour man in the portrait during their search for the horcruxes. She looked to Dumbledore's portrait that hung behind the desk. "Good day, sir."

"It is lovely to see you again, Miss Granger," he said, absolutely beaming at her. "Now, I believe without preamble, I should say thank you for returning our Potions Master."

"Oh, well, I really didn't do anything," she said, mentally adding _just ask Professor Snape._

"Oh? But I think you did," he said, still grinning. "Please, have a seat."

Hermione sat in one of the chairs situated in front of the desk and glanced around the room. She saw a cabinet that was slightly open and could see a basin resided inside. She knew it must be the pensieve, and for a moment, she was wondered if Snape's memories were still in it and if McGonagall had seen them.

"Now, I must insist you tell me everything," Dumbledore said, looking quite ready for a long listen.

Hermione began to recount the events in the Shrieking Shack, purposely skirting the details of what Snape said when he woke up. She was just beginning to describe the sensation she experienced when picking up the wand for the first time, when Professor McGonagall entered the room.

"Ah, Minerva. How is Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"Much better than expected, and at the moment, he's sleeping like a baby," McGonagall said.

"Probably for the first time in his life," Phineas Black said.

"Yes, quite possibly. Poppy is absolutely fawning over him. I think she feels just as guilty as we all do for the way we treated him." She shook her head sadly for a moment.

"Things were as they had to be, Minerva. It's time to move on," Dumbledore said.

"Indeed." McGonagall didn't hide the hint of brittle bitterness in her voice. She waved her wand and a platter of meats, cheeses, and fresh fruit appeared on the desk before Hermione. The sound of her grumbling stomach seemed to echo within the room, and she quickly followed McGonagall's lead and loaded a plate full of food and began to eat. Dumbledore's portrait waited patiently, his hands folded in front of him. He smiled and blinked contentedly at the women as they ate. It was McGonagall that spoke first.

"Albus, I do hope that you remember something about wandlore in your current painted state," McGonagall said, dabbing her lips with a napkin. He chuckled.

"You'll find that I'm able to recall a surprising amount," he said. "In fact, I've found that I can recall anything that I knew as my former self, as long as it is of benefit to the school's students or faculty. But, if you were to ask me how the Chudley Cannons did last season, I'm afraid you'd be sorely disappointed in my answer."

Hermione couldn't help herself and asked, "Well, what would your answer be?" Dumbledore looked as though he were pondering a deep philosophical question, stroking his beard with one hand and looking toward the sky.

"I believe that is the most difficult question anyone has ever asked me, Miss Granger. My answer would simply be, 'I don't know'," he said, a smile returning to his face. "Now, before Minerva arrived, you were about to tell me what happened when you picked up Professor Snape's wand. Care to continue?"

"Well, as I said before, it was just lying there, in all of his blood, and I didn't want to leave it behind, so I picked it up," Hermione said, almost feeling as though she needed to defend her actions.

"I would have done the same," McGonagall said, giving Hermione an encouraging smile.

"Then instantly, I felt an odd sensation, like the wand chose me or something. It was the same sensation that I felt when this wand chose me at Ollivander's, but stronger," she said, taking her own wand out and holding it up for Dumbledore to see, as though it were evidence. "Sparks shot from the end of his wand, though they were green when I remember my being red with this wand."

"That is most intriguing, Miss Granger. I find it unlikely that you attacked him, so I wonder, what would cause such behavior in a wand?" Dumbledore mused. "You mentioned that he woke up for a few moments, did he say anything?"

"Well, yes, in fact he did," she said, feeling a blush warm her cheeks.

"And?"

"He called me annoying." She took a deep breath, then muttered, "and then, I think he called me beautiful."

"Ah, well, that explains everything. It all makes perfect sense," Dumbledore said. Hermione had expected him to keep speaking, but he just looked at them from his portrait as though they had concluded the conversation.

"What makes perfect sense? Nothing about this makes perfect sense," McGonagall said, looking confused and sounding annoyed. Hermione was glad she asked because she had no idea what he could possibly be talking about.

"Oh, but it does, Minerva," he said, his smile broadening. "I thought it'd be quite obvious really."

"What would be obvious?" Hermione asked, now genuinely lost.

"That you overpowered him," he said.

"I did not," Hermione said, standing up from her chair defensively.

"I'm afraid you did Miss Granger, though I doubt it was intentional. Please, have a seat dear," he said. She sat, though reluctantly.

"Explain," McGonagall said.

"It would appear that Miss Granger overpowered his heart," he said. Hermione could hear Phineas Black scoff, and she felt she quite shared his sentiment.

"I'm sorry, but are you saying that Severus Snape is in love with Hermione Granger?" McGonagall asked. Dumbledore laughed, and Hermione was now convinced the portrait was barking mad.

"No, not love, _yet, _at least, and it is quite possible it might never become love. If I'm not mistaken, and I rarely am, he must see something in you that he's never seen in another living person. A connection, so to speak. "

"I'm sorry, but I'm finding this all very hard to believe," Hermione said. "I mean, Professor Snape can't stand me!"

"Perhaps on the outside," Dumbledore chuckled, "but somewhere deep down there must be a spark of something. You are one of the brightest students this school has seen, and perhaps respect or pride ignited that spark. I really can't say, only Severus would know, though I doubt he'd allow himself to see it. I daresay a similar spark resides deep within you as well." Hermione spluttered for a moment, not sure how to reply to that statement.

"But, I mean, he _really_ can't stand me," she repeated dully.

Dumbledore sighed then said, "Apparently his wand can."

"I've never heard of a wand switching allegiances for such a reason. Why, it sounds preposterous!" McGonagall said and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"It is rare, but it has happened. Mr. Ollivander would have some interesting stories about such instances, I am sure."

"I'm still not sure I understand sir," Hermione said. "I mean, if it had been someone else that Professor Snape had seen when he woke up, and he had called them beautiful, would his wand have bonded to them?"

"A good very question, my dear. Astute as always," he said proudly. "I think not. Wandlore is a subtle science, and wands are very particular about who they choose. I believe there is something about you that attracted the wand, probably the very thing that caused Severus to react the way he did when he woke up. You two must share some sort of profound commonality. It's quite possible that if the wand had not chosen Severus when he was a boy, it might have chosen you."

"But why won't it work for him anymore?"

"Because its allegiance belongs to you now," Dumbledore said.

"And why won't _my _wand work for me anymore?"

"Ah, so your wand isn't working for you anymore? Most unfortunate," he said, shaking his head wistfully. "When I acquired the Elder Wand, I was quite distraught to discover that the wand I had used since my youth no longer worked for me as it once did. It seems that a wand often knows when it has been replaced."

"What am I going to do? I mean, Professor Snape probably won't just _give _me his wand. And what is he going to do without a wand?"

"I'll talk to him and see what I can do, though there's not much he can do except get a new wand," Dumbledore said.

"I wonder what would happen if Severus tried her wand?" McGonagall said. "As you said, they seem to share some sort of connection, and this connection seemed to manifest itself through his wand while they were both touching the wood, perhaps something similar would happen through her wand."

"Ah, a connection shared through the wand?" Dumbledore questioned, looking at Hermione with a mildly amused expression.

Hermione looked at her knees, then said, "It was almost like I touched his magic, saw his thoughts."

"Did you feel anything?"

Hermione took deep breath and nodded.

"And what did it feel like?" Dumbledore asked, beginning to sound quite excited.

It was then the door swung open and Snape stepped into the room. He was no longer clad in the hospital gown, but instead in his usual black robes, though the high neck was unbuttoned to allow room for his bandages. His hair was still a mess and his face screamed exhaustion. Hermione suddenly had a sinking feeling he had been listening at the door.

"Severus!" McGonagall gasped, bringing a hand at her heart. "What are you-"

"I believe Miss Granger was about to say something," Snape interrupted, his dark eyes glittering as they swept the room. "Please, do continue."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to the lovely coliemcnoly and MezzoPrincess for betareading!


	12. Pensive Pensieve

_Disclaimer: ...still belongs to JKR..._

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**Pensive Pensieve**

"_I believe Miss Granger was about to say something," Snape interrupted, his dark eyes glittering as they swept the room. "Please, do continue."_

* * *

Severus was curious to hear what the girl thought of their odd encounter at St. Mungo's. He might not have barged into the study if he hadn't heard them say something about a connection. In his exhausted and angry state, he hadn't been able to ponder it much. He could see she was scared, so whatever she had been about to say, he was sure he was probably the last person she'd want to hear it, which meant that he must, of course, hear it.

"Is there a problem?" he asked slowly, feeling a slight sense of satisfaction at seeing her wince at his every word.

"Really Severus, you should be in the infirmary resting," McGonagall said, glaring at him. "I can't believe Poppy let you go."

"I wouldn't say that she, ah, _let _me go," he replied with a blank face. McGonagall stood up immediately.

"I believe I'll go and check on Poppy," she said, narrowing her eyes dangerously at Severus. "I'm afraid I don't trust your judgement toward medical staff since you attacked Healer Arangia like a madman. Miss Granger, I'll return as soon as possible."

He crossed his arms and held her eyes with an unchanged expression.

"Can't I come with you?" Hermione asked, obviously not liking the idea of being questioned without McGonagall's support.

"Of course-"

"-not," Severus interrupted. "Miss Granger and I have much to discuss and I'm in no condition to be kept waiting. I promise that I will do nothing to harm your precious Gryffindor cub, or should I say, Gryffindor thief."

"I am not!" Hermione said, standing from her chair.

"Sit down Miss Granger. Theatrics are quite unnecessary, I assure you," Severus said.

"Minerva, go ahead and check on Poppy. If things get out of hand, a portrait will inform you immediately," Dumbledore said.

"Will you be all right?" she asked. Hermione hesitated, then nodded and sat back down in chair reassuringly. "I'll return shortly."

"I almost forgot to mention - I took the liberty of changing the password to 'wand thief'," Severus drawled after her. She stopped and shot one final glare his way before stepping out of the door.

"Severus, you didn't really attack a healer, did you?" Dumbledore asked as soon as the door shut behind McGonagall.

"Healer Arangia...perhaps. Poppy, of course not," he said, turning to face the portrait. He brought his hands together in front of him and began to tap his fingertips together. "It took only subtle _persuasion_ to get out of the infirmary, just as it took only a subtle _suggestion_ to get Minerva out of here." He didn't resist the smirk that pulled at the corners of his lips. He glanced at Hermione to gage her reaction just in time to see her eyes rolling. His lips dropped into a scowl immediately.

"Persuasion was always one of your strengths," Dumbledore chuckled.

"Indeed," he said. "Now, Miss Granger, please do continue. My patience is wearing quite thin." She sat up straighter and lifted her chin.

"Well, sir, as I was telling Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, when you touched the wand, I think I felt your magic," she said.

"Really, and what did it feel like?" he asked, his voice low and taunting. The pinkness in her cheeks became more prominent.

"It felt, well, pleasant actually. I felt warm...safe," she mumbled, looking at the floor.

"I see," he said, still scowling at her. "I wonder what would cause you to feel such things when connected to me, because I assure you, I felt no such thing from you." Her face hardened and she looked up from the floor and met his eyes in an almost challenging manner.

"Really, because I was thinking that it felt pleasant to me _because_ it felt pleasant to you. Oh, and I might add that I was able to see what you were thinking. I suppose I really did look beautiful, _sir._"

"Get out," he growled, pointing toward the door. When she didn't move, he swooped closer to her chair and drew himself up. "I said, get out."

She looked for a moment as though she might protest, but instead, she stood and walked calmly to the door. Severus immediately sank into one of the chairs, closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples with his hands and began to wonder what he was going to do. It was just his luck to have shared an odd connection with a wand thieving, radiant, impossible, young, stubborn, and intelligent witch.

"That was quite unnecessary Severus," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "I see your temper is still rather short. Tell me, what did making Miss Granger leave solve?"

"What didn't it solve?" he replied.

"I suppose you still don't know why your wand isn't working for you?"

"Obviously she stole it," he mumbled tiredly.

"Not quite," Dumbledore said, his voice laced with excitement. Severus sighed loudly and opened his eyes to slits to look at the portrait.

"Are you going to make me ask?" Dumbledore nodded and Severus groaned. "Fine. Tell me, _sir,_ why do you think my wand has stopped working for me?"

"Glad you asked," he simpered. "It's quite simple, Miss Granger has found the way to your heart and soul."

"That's absurd," Severus said, sitting up straighter.

"That's what I said," Phineas Black offered. Severus nodded toward him in appreciation.

"It's probably a direct result of you finally letting go of Lily," Dumbledore said. "Your heart finally has room for another, thus allowing the manifestation of a connection to Miss Granger."

"Lily?" Severus said, confused. "Are you referring to Lily Evans? What does she have to do with anything?" For some reason, he had a feeling that she had a lot to do with everything.

"You mean Lily Potter," Dumbledore corrected.

"Lily," he repeated, feeling an odd tug at his chest. He glanced around the room and a shattered green potions phial on the floor in the corner of the room caught his eye.

"Green," he whispered. It was then that he remembered that he loved Lily.

Severus knew he had given Potter his memories when he was sure he was going to die, but hadn't yet figured out which ones. He knew Potter must've viewed the memories here, and knowing the careless Gryffindor, he was fairly certain here they remained. He stood up and pulled the pensieve out of its cabinet. He looked into the basin and saw the familiar silver wisps swirling around the basin.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, his voice lowered in concern, "you'd be much happier if you just let those memories go. I believe it's time for you to move on."

"I must know," he said, and without another word, he slipped into his own memories.

* * *

A/N: A short chapter, but a chapter none the less:)

I'm still out of town, so I wanted to get this posted right away since my internet access has been rather unreliable.

Thanks to Mezzo Princess and coliemcnoly for proofing!


	13. The Wand Chooses the Wizard

Disclaimer: Just playing with JKR's characters for a bit of fun and practice...

* * *

**Chapter 13**

**The Wand Chooses the Wizard**

Severus pulled himself from the Pensieve and collapsed into a chair. He was covered in sweat and breathing hard. He raised a visibly shaking hand and raked it through his hair. As soon as he regained some composure, he stood and turned to Dumbledore's portrait, looking it up and down with murder flashing in his dark eyes.

"You are a cruel and manipulative old man," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm not sure I'll ever forgive you."

"Severus, I did what I had to do," Dumbledore pleaded.

"I believe I have some thinking to do before I can agree with you there," Severus said, shaking his head slowly. "Seeing everything as I just saw it in the Pensieve was…enlightening." He looked down at his feet, his head still shaking.

"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. He looked to the portrait, his dark eyes glittering.

"She never loved me," he said, each word ripped from him like a thorn buried deep beneath his skin. "I don't know why I refused to see it before." He took a deep breath and turned to walk to the exit.

"Where are you going?" Dumbledore asked.

"To the infirmary. I'm not feeling very well at the moment," he said, opening the door. He began to leave the room, but hesitated. "Why did you have me brew the Felix?"

"I had a feeling you'd need a bit of luck to complete the impossible task I had given you," he said. "I knew that you were probably the last person Harry would listen to."

"Why me? Why you didn't give the task to someone like Minerva? He trusts her," he said.

"I assure you that you were the only person for the job," Dumbledore said, making it apparent that the subject was no longer up for discussion. "Plus, my dear boy, how else would you have redeemed yourself in the eyes of others without earning Harry's trust?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I did not seek redemption?" he asked softly.

"You may not have sought it, but you deserved it after all that I put you through," Dumbledore said sadly.

Severus looked at the portrait one last time and saw tears streaming down the portrait's cheeks. He narrowed his eyes and left the study without another word.

* * *

Severus strode into the hall the moment the gargoyle slid out of his way. He didn't notice Miss Granger sitting on the floor against the wall until she issued a small snore. He stopped, looked down at her, and smirked. He resisted his initial temptation to wake her with a nudge of his boot and instead found himself studying her.

Her head was thrown back against the wall and her cracked, dry lips were slightly parted. Overall, she didn't look very healthy, and it was painfully obvious that she had lost too much weight. The skin around her eyes was dark and her cheekbones more prominent than he remembered. Somewhere in the depths of the mind, he admitted to himself that despite these things, he really did find her beautiful.

His eyes wandered to her hands that were draped over her knees. Despite her worn and tattered nails, they looked graceful and delicate. She looked exhausted, and he was sure that she had been through more in the last year than most go through in an entire lifetime.

When she began to mumble in her sleep (he heard a word that sounded suspiciously like 'boomslang'), he cleared his throat loudly. Her eyes snapped open and she looked up at him, flushing immediately.

"Professor Snape," she said, getting to her feet. Instead of offering a hand to help her up, he simply raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry sir, I was waiting for Professor McGonagall and must've dozed off."

"I see," he said. He turned to address the gargoyle. "I'm going to change the password again. It is now 'boomslang thief'." He turned back to Miss Granger and was pleased to see that her blush had increased. His suspicions dating back to her second year were now confirmed.

"Sir, I think your neck is bleeding again," she said, pointing at his bandages, obviously trying to change the subject.

"I'm aware of that Miss Granger," he said as he turned and began to walk down the corridor. "I was on my way to the infirmary when your snoring interrupted me. Care to join me?"

He looked over his shoulder to see that she looked surprised by his invitation, but had started to walk with him anyway. Severus wasn't sure why he had asked her along exactly, but decided it was because he might be able get more information out of her.

"You are lucky I was truly on your side of the war," he said suddenly.

"Why?" she asked, her tone hesitant.

"Because you compromised your position in the Forrest of Dean to Phineas Black. You could've gotten yourself and your precious dunderheads killed," he said. When she didn't reply, he continued. "The night I left that sword for Potter, I saw Weasley, and I must say, it looked like he was retuning from being away. Did he leave you and Potter?"

"Yes," she said, her voice dripping with bitterness.

"I thought he might. I'm amazed he found you again, and perhaps more amazed you allowed him return. I'm not entirely sure that I would've forgiven him so easily," he said.

"I didn't," she muttered angrily. "Actually, I don't think I have yet." She was quiet for a moment then said, "Professor Dumbledore must've known he would leave, because in his will he provided Ron the means to find us again."

Severus looked over at her and saw that her face had hardened. He remembered the fury she had directed toward him at St. Mungo's and realised that she was truly a force to be reckoned with when angry. The expression on her face also showed that she really hadn't forgiven Weasley boy yet. He wondered for a moment what would've possessed him to leave, but then pushed the thought from his mind when he decided that it probably had something to do with a hormone-driven love triangle.

"Now, about my wand," he said after they had been walking in silence for a while. He felt sparks of anger stir within him just thinking about it. "Since you refuse to admit you attacked me, how is it you managed to steal its allegiance?"

"I really didn't mean for it to happen sir. I didn't want to leave it behind in the Shrieking Shack, so I picked it up. That was all, I promise," she said, her voice pleading. He was annoyed that her voice indicated she was telling the truth.

"Miss Granger, please, do not lie to me. If that's all you did, then why do you have its allegiance?"

"Dumbledore said…" Her words drifted off.

"Yes, he mentioned his theory to me," he grumbled. "It's absurd, I assure you."

"Oh," she said quietly. He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. She was looking to the floor, obviously not wanting to meet his eyes.

"So your wand isn't working either?" he asked gruffly, ensuring that his voice didn't show a hint of concern.

"For me, no," she said. "Professor McGonagall was able to use it. She also wondered what would happen if you tried it."

He didn't reply, but began to wonder the same. They continued to walk at brisk pace and in silence until they reached the infirmary doors, where Severus stopped abruptly and held his hand out.

"Let me see it then," he said. With a slight hesitation, she pulled her wand from her robes, but stopped short of handing it to him. "Miss Granger, must I remind you of my neck's condition? Poppy would be quite upset if you allowed me to bleed to death in the corridor directly in front of the infirmary. Hand your wand over, now."

She complied and held it out to him, handle first. As soon as his fingers touched this wood, he felt the same warm sensation he had felt at St. Mungo's sweep through his body. This time though, instead of seeing images of her, he was inundated with images of himself appearing more handsome than he'd ever thought himself to be. He saw himself asleep on a floating stretcher, looking much better in a hospital gown than should be possible. His eyes snapped up and he found Miss Granger's widened in shock. He felt hesitant to break the connection, but decided to get it over with and pulled the wand away from her hand.

As soon as her fingers lost their grip on the wand, he felt another warm, tingling sensation flow through his body. He instinctively closed his eyes for a moment, opening them when he heard Miss Granger gasp. He looked to the wand and saw that red sparks were flying from its tip. He held up it up and the flow of sparks stopped. He was amazed at how natural it felt in his hand, like it had always been his wand. He could feel the powerful magic at his fingertips, waiting to be unleashed through the wand.

"Do you think I'm lying now?" she asked, pointing at her wand. "That's what happened when I picked up your wand!"

He didn't speak, unsure of what to say. He examined the wand and realized in some odd way, it reminded him of her delicate hands.

"Miss Granger, what is your wand's composition?" he asked, pushing the thought of her hands from his mind.

"The wood is vine. The core is dragon heartstring," she replied quickly. He couldn't help but to be relieved that its core wasn't unicorn hair. "May I ask what your wand is, sir?"

"Blackthorn, dragon heartstring," he muttered, still staring at her wand.

"Are you going to keep my wand?" she asked timidly. He ripped his gaze from the wand to meet her eyes. He could see she wanted to ask if she could have his wand in exchange, which was out of the question.

"I think not," he said. He started to return her wand, but stopped and smirked. "I must say, Miss Granger, I didn't know that I could look so, ah, _handsome _unconscious and in a hospital gown." He saw her cheeks redden a little, but her eyes narrowed angrily.

"Perhaps it's best if you put my wand on the floor. I'll pick it up from there," she said.

"Nonsense. Come, take it," he said, holding the wand out to her, still smirking. He was curious to know if there were other times she had admired him in such a manner.

She continued to glare at him, but grabbed the wand. This time, the pleasurable warm sensation didn't last long before the wand was yanked from his fingers. Instead of more images of himself, it was her asleep in the corridor that he saw in his mind. His brows furrowed as he realised that she had probably seen the same. When his eyes focused to find a triumphant grin plastered on her face, he was sure that was what she had seen. She turned without a word and walked into the infirmary, her chin held high. He could only stand and stare after her. He felt impossibly lonely all of a sudden.

"Insufferable girl," he growled under his breath, pushing any thoughts of her away from his mind and instead focusing on the dull throb of pain he felt in his neck.

* * *

A/N: I apologize for the length of time since my last update. I returned from my trip, but apparently my muse did not. I've already started writing the next chapter, so the wait won't be as long.

Thanks a million to Mezzo Princess and coliemcnoly for being patient with an extremely impatient person! Also for their wonderful proofreading and support skills.

I wanted to quickly let everyone know that I just started a livejournal page. The link is on my bio page or translate the following: qui-quae-quod DOT livejournal DOT com. I JUST started it, so there's nothing there yet, but I'll start posting story related notes, thoughts, etc.

For those of you who like the technical stuff…here's just a few quick notes on Blackthorn wood and why I chose it for Snape's wand (I plan to post more extensive notes and sources on my brand new livejournal page). I got the following information from Sacred Woods and the Lore of Trees; translate the following: tarahill DOT com SLASH treelore SLASH trees

BLACKTHORN (Prunus spinosa)

Blackthorn is a winter tree. The sloe, its fruit, ripen and sweeten only after the nip of the frost. White flowers are seen even before the leaves in the spring. It is black barked with vicious thorns and grows in dense thickets. Blackthorn indicates strong action of fate or outside influences that must be obeyed.

To me, that just screams Severus Snape in its physical and symbolic description. I know Harry used a Blackthorn wand in DH, but after much thought and research on woods, I definitely felt the need to also use this wood for Snape's wand. It just seemed right to me. As I said before, I plan to post more extensive thoughts on the subject on my livejournal.

I also wanted to give a huge nod to half-bloodprince DOT org for a thought provoking essay on the possibilities of Snape's wand composition.


	14. A Small Triumph and a Big Problem

_Disclaimer: ...and yes...I'm still having a bit of fun with JKR's characters._

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**A Small Triumph and a Big Problem**

Hermione entered the infirmary with a smile planted firmly on her face. Though she was frustrated Snape was stubborn enough to not swap wands and be done with it, she now knew he had been admiring her while she slept. The look on his face after she broke the connection was worth more than a hundred pints of Acromantula venom. Professor Snape, embarrassed and speechless. What had the world come to? She felt almost giddy in her satisfaction.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, stepping out of an office at the back of the infirmary. She held open the door and motioned for Hermione to come in.

Hermione walked through the infirmary, surprised at how quiet it was. The bright room was full of nothing but empty beds. There were more beds than usual and they were crammed together quite precariously, leaving only a small aisle down the middle of the room in which to walk.

"I must say I am relieved to see you, though rather surprised to see you smiling," McGonagall said as soon as she closed the office door. "I assume all went well with Severus then?"

"I wouldn't say that," Hermione said, her elated mood quickly deflating. She held her wand up. "He tried my wand."

"Why would he try her wand?" Madam Promfrey said, startling Hermione. The healer was peering at her from behind a desk piled high with stacks and stacks of paperwork.

"What is all that?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself.

"This is what happens when there is a battle on school property," she said bitterly.

"Where is everyone?" Hermione said.

"Those with more serious injuries have been transferred to St. Mungo's. The rest have gone home."

"What happened when Severus tried your wand?" McGonagall asked, not deterred.

Before Hermione could answer, the office door swung open and Snape stood in the door frame. He looked directly at Madam Pomfrey and raised an eyebrow. He slowly moved his eyes to rest on Hermione and dropped his brow into a glare. Without saying a word, he turned and swept from the room.

"Oh dear," Madam Pomfrey sighed, getting up from behind the desk. "You'll have to excuse me."

As soon as the door closed again, McGonagall turned to Hermione and motioned for her to continue.

"It looked like he experienced the same thing I experienced when I picked up his wand," Hermione said.

"Intriguing, but not entirely surprising," McGonagall said. "We'll have to discuss this with Albus, but later. It's nearly time for you to floo to the Burrow, but there are a few things I need to tell you before you leave."

Hermione nodded, hoping that there was news on her parents.

"First, you must realize that there are still countless Death Eaters and their sympathizers on the loose, so it's not safe out there yet, least of all for you, Potter, and Weasley. It has been decided that you three will have a constant auror guard."

Again, Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything. As much as she had hoped things would return to normal quickly, she had suspected it would be a while before the war would truly come to an end.

"Second, your parents have been located and their memories restored. It was decided that the safest mode of travel for them at the moment was one of those muggle flying contraptions. They, too, will be under constant auror guard."

"Did they say anything?" Hermione asked, knowing that her parents would probably be upset with her for literally turning their lives upside down.

"They send their love and are anxious to see you," McGonagall said. "They are not upset with you, I promise that. If anything, they are proud, as we all are."

Hermione smiled, the worried knot in her belly welled into deep excitement. She would get to go home tomorrow.

"I suppose it's time we got you to the Weasley's. You'll floo from my office," McGonagall said, opening the office door. She hesitated and turned toward Hermione. "Remember that if you ever need anything, my door is always open to you."

"Thanks Professor," she said quietly.

She followed McGonagall through the infirmary, her eyes resting on the privacy screens that now surrounded a singular bed. She could detect movement behind them, but was unable to distinguish anything else. She sighed and continued to follow McGonagall, deciding how to best explain the wand situation to the boys.

* * *

The morning sun seeped through the dingy windows at the Burrow like honey. Hermione sat at the kitchen table, enjoying the rare quiet that came to this house in the hours just after dawn. It seemed even the ghoul in the attic wasn't a morning person. She had her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ open to a chapter about the castle's vast dungeons. She poured over it, allowing herself to become lost in the book's words. She smiled slightly as she imagined Professor Snape swooping around the damp corridors dramatically, like a wraith cloaked in shadows.

"Good morning," she said without looking up from her book when she heard footsteps entering the kitchen.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron asked, shoving a crumpled newspaper under Hermione's nose.

"I have no idea what you're on about," she said, standing up from her chair and batting his hand away from her face. Ron was still in his pajamas, breathing hard and obviously upset. The colour of his cheeks matched his wild red hair and his freckles looked as though they were ready to leap from his skin. Harry was standing next to him, looking slightly worried.

"This," he growled, shoving what she now saw was the Daily Prophet at her again. She yanked it from his hands and felt her stomach drop when she read the headline and saw the photographs of her and Professor Snape.

"I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this," Harry said.

"What could possibly explain it, Harry?" he shouted. He grabbed the newspaper from Hermione and held it up in front of Harry's face. "Illicit lover's quarrel disturbs the peace in the lobby at St. Mungo's," he intoned for Harry, pointing at each word as he spoke.

"Ron, honestly. Don't believe such rubbish," she said. He immediately rounded on her, still holding the newspaper in a shaking grip.

"If it's rubbish, then how do you explain the photographs?" he all but screamed at her.

Hermione swallowed. The pictures really didn't look good. One was taken when she had looked behind McGonagall's back to glare at Snape, but had found him looking at her with an eyebrow raised in question. The angle of the photo allowed the viewer to see only the back of Hermione's head, but Snape quirking his eyebrow was clear and could be interpreted as suggestive, especially if you were to watch the photo move over and over again. The other photo was grainier and showed her poking a finger into Snape's chest while they were obviously yelling at each other.

"We did fight, but believe me, it was anything but a 'lover's quarrel'," she snapped, ripping the paper from Ron's hand. "Did you not notice who wrote this? _Rita Skeeter_. She's been out for my blood for some time now."

"It still doesn't explain the photos," he ground out, his eyes still flashing in anger. "Plus, you didn't mention any fight with Snape. What else haven't you told us?"

"This is crazy Ron," Harry said, stepping between the two. "Hermione told us what happened with their wands, it's obvious that's what they were fighting over. Right Hermione?"

Hermione blushed a little, but nodded. She had told them about her wand not working for her anymore and how Snape's wand had chosen her, but she hadn't mentioned the connections they shared when they both touched the wands.

"Then why was he looking at you like that? And why were you poking him? People don't just go around and poke people like Snape!" Ron said, his voice starting to sound more whiny than angry.

"He made me angry, and you've seen me angry plenty. I'll admit, it's not pretty. It's good I didn't have a working wand on me, or I probably would've hexed him," she said, truthfully.

"And what about the look he was giving you?" he asked.

"I have no idea," she said, breathing out in exasperation. "I think McGonagall had just told him my wand wasn't working for me either. I think he was just surprised, that's all."

Ron took a deep breath and sank into one of the kitchen chairs. He looked up at Hermione and glared.

"You know, I still don't understand why your wands switched allegiances," he said quietly. "None of it makes sense to me."

Hermione didn't say anything. She hadn't shared Dumbledore's theory on why Snape's wand had chosen her. She also hadn't worked out why her wand seemed to choose Snape. He hadn't attacked her, that she could remember.

"Ron, just drop it," Harry said, sitting down in the chair next to Ron. "We agreed last night that we would support Kingsley in rebuilding confidence in the Ministry of Magic. We have a long week ahead of us and we need to get along. If you two fight at a press conference or a funeral or something, it'll just add fuel to the fire." He looked pleadingly at Ron then Hermione.

"If Ron would just act like an adult, we wouldn't be having this argument at all," Hermione said. "Honestly, this is Rita Skeeter we're talking about here."

"It appears she had Dumbledore right," Ron said, glowering at the table. "Perhaps she's got you right too."

"Ron," Hermione said, with both hands now fisted on her hips, "please, do me a favor and don't speak to me until you've grown up."

"Fine," he replied, "then don't speak to me until you stop having love affairs with greasy dungeon bats!"

"Can you two just stop, please?" Harry said, rubbing his temples like he had a terrible headache.

Hermione shot each boy a glare and stomped from the room, hoping her auror guard would show up early so that she could be on her way. She headed outside, deciding garden gnomes would probably make better company than anyone inside.

She plopped down on the grass with an unceremonious grunt. She had been so busy arguing with Ron that she hadn't thought to take the newspaper so that she could read the whole article. She wondered what Rita was basing this so-called lover's quarrel on. Her stomach knotted when she wondered if Professor Snape had seen the article yet. She was relieved that she was no where near Hogwarts, because she was sure he'd find a way to blame the whole thing on her.

"Boys," she muttered under her breath, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.

Ron had been driving her up the wall since she arrived the day before. He was being clingy, possessive, and quick to anger. She knew this was probably just his way of dealing with grief, but it was about to drive her mad.

The entire night at the Weasley's had been an uncomfortable dance around any subjects that might send Mrs. Weasley into hysterics. No one spoke much, but when they did, the conversation was kept to pleasantries only. Everyone was careful not to mention anything related to Fred or the battle. She was relieved when she was able to go to sleep in Ginny's room early, because a lump had been building in her throat with every glance at George, and she wasn't sure if she'd have been able to repress it much longer.

Explaining the wand situation was easier than she had expected, and she was relieved when neither Ron nor Harry seemed to have many questions for her. Ginny shot her a few questioning looks, but she brushed them off. She knew they would have more questions now, and she wasn't sure how she would explain it to them when she wasn't entirely sure of anything herself.

She pulled Bellatrix Lestrange's wand from her pocket and looked at it with loathing. Her own wand was now tucked safely into her magically enlarged beaded bag. After Bellatrix had been killed by Molly Weasley during the final battle, Neville Longbottom saw Hermione's wand lying next to her body and recognized it. Hermione couldn't believe her luck when Neville handed it back to her. Apparently Bellatrix had been using it since it was left behind when they made their escape from Malfoy Manor. She shuddered at the thought of her wand being used to her twisted will.

As soon as Hermione had her own wand back, she had hoped to never use Bellatrix's wand again. She'd promised Neville that she would break the evil woman's wand, but now, she'd have to put that promise on hold. The wand's feeling of evil was only accented by Hermione's knowledge that it had torn apart so many lives and families, and here she was stuck with it all over again. What was worse, she now couldn't get Snape's wand off of her mind. She craved it, her fingers tingling at the thought of her magic being channelled through the elegant instrument. She almost yearned to feel the smooth wood against her skin again.

She flicked an angry tear away from her cheek and hoped Snape yearned for her wand too.

* * *

A/N: I'd been putting off deciding how Hermione got her wand back after it was lost at Malfoy Manor...but there it is.

As always, thoughts, feedback,and comments are most helpful and welcome!

A billion thanks to coliemcnoly and Mezzo Princess for being lovely betas.


	15. Boiled Egos and Eggs

_Disclaimer: Still belongs to JKR. I'm just playing with her creations..._

* * *

**Chapter 15**

**Boiled Egos and Eggs**

For the first time in seventeen years, Severus awoke feeling unbound from the chains of guilt and responsibility he'd always embraced as his burden. He squinted at the bright room through his eyelashes, momentarily confused as he identified his surroundings as the infirmary at Hogwarts. Becoming aware of the sharp throb in his neck, he couldn't help but shudder as the memory of Nagini's fangs sinking into his flesh like warm thorns came flooding back to him. He knew that his wounds might never fully heal.

He opened his eyes fully and stretched his fingers and toes. The stiffness in his muscles told him that he had been asleep for a long time. After Poppy had redressed his wounds the day before, she had insisted that he stay and get some rest. Normally Severus would have refused, but he was exhausted to his very bones and did not have the energy to convince her otherwise. After a light supper of chicken broth, he was in bed before the sun went down. By the angled sunlight that now flooded the room, he surmised that it must be late morning. He heard Poppy's office door open then close as he slowly drew himself into a sitting position on the bed.

"Ah, Severus, you're awake," Poppy said, walking toward his bed with a beaming smile on her face. Her arms were laden with bottles and gauze. "I assume you slept well?"

"Apparently," he said, his voice still rough with sleep.

"I'm glad. Let me look at your neck and then we'll get you some breakfast," she said, pulling a stool up to his bed. Severus winced slightly as she began to remove the bandages from his neck. The air felt cool on his wound, so he knew that it must still be damp with blood.

"It's still bleeding," Severus muttered.

"So it is," Poppy said, cleaning the wound with a few flicks of her wand. He recognized the scent of the healing salve she dabbed on the punctures wounds as a formula of his creation. "It's going to take some for this to heal. The bleeding has slowed considerably, and I think it should stop completely by tomorrow. Have a look."

Poppy conjured a mirror and handed it to him. He held it up and examined the wounds. His long fingers gingerly touched the taut and swollen skin around the puncture holes. They were not perfectly circular, but were elongated and jagged where the snake's fangs must have ripped the skin as they retracted. He could see that they went deep. Had he not taken his Blood-Replenishing Potion, he was sure he would be dead. He looked up and saw that Poppy was looking at him sadly.

"I'm afraid that even your fabulous healing salve won't prevent this from scarring," she said quietly.

"It could have been worse. At least I still have _both _of my ears," he said bitterly. He would never forgive himself for his slip of the wand that resulted in the deformation of George Weasley.

"True," she said, eyeing him awkwardly. He could see she knew he had cast the offending hex on George. "I'm afraid those scars will do nothing but add to the rumor that you're really a vampire."

Severus didn't reply but handed the mirror back to her with a slightly curled lip. He had always found this rumor quite entertaining, and did nothing to dispel it. Poppy dressed the wounds again while humming quietly. Normally, he would have snapped at her be quiet, but he held his tongue and hoped she realized that this was his way of offering her an olive branch.

"Severus, I want to apologize for the way we treated you," she said suddenly.

"You treated me as I would've treated myself if I were in your robes," he said, keeping his voice even. "I was a traitor and a murderer in your eyes, so there is nothing to forgive. You acted as Dumbledore had intended, as did I." He silently watched a tear roll down her cheek. She smiled at him weakly, gathered her bottles, and stood up.

"I'll have your breakfast delivered," she said, walking back toward her office.

Severus propped his pillows against the metal headboard and leaned back with his arms resting behind his head. He felt well rested and almost relaxed. He knew that he would always feel a twinge of deep guilt somewhere within him, but he decided it was time he focused on something else. As always, he was going listen to Dumbledore, but this time, he felt good about it. He realized the old wizard was right, it was indeed time for him to move on.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his thoughts quickly going to Miss Granger's wand. It had felt so natural in his grip, as though he had always possessed it. He wondered why it would react the way it did to him, having done nothing to win its allegiance. He knew that just as a wand learned from its wizard, the wizard also learned from his wand. Perhaps their wands saw something within them that they themselves did not yet see. It was almost as though their own wands were purposely blocking their magic from channelling through properly, and there must be a reason for it.

Then there was the connections they shared to consider. At first he had thought it must be their magic somehow mingling through the wand, but why would they share thoughts? As a master Occlumens, this bothered him greatly. He had been able to hide and control his thoughts around the Dark Lord, but a young woman who, to his knowledge, was _not_ a Legilimens, seemed to infiltrate his mind, twice. Was it possible that the wands were purposely directing those specific thoughts to them? He opened his eyes and looked at his wand that was sitting on the bedside tray with suspicion. He knew that wands were not living, breathing, thinking creatures, but he also knew they sometimes had a will of their own. Potter's wand directing itself at the Dark Lord's borrowed wand was a perfect example of this anomaly. He knew he'd find the best answers through Ollivander, but had a feeling the old man might be reluctant to talk to him due to his indirect involvement in his incarceration and torture. Perhaps it would make the wandmaker more comfortable if he had Miss Granger with him.

Severus had started to close his eyes again when he heard his breakfast appear on the tray. He looked over and frowned at the slim selections: dry toast, sliced tomatoes, one boiled egg, water, and a small pot of tea. He sat up straighter and pulled the tray over his bed. His stomach rumbled as he thought of the bacon and sausage not present on his plate. Knowing his body was still recovering from a major shock and would not react well to a large feast, he resigned himself to the small meal.

As he picked up the small teapot to pour himself a cup, he noticed the folded copy of The Daily Prophet sitting next to his toast. He set the teapot down and unfolded the paper, not looking at the front page. Settling into a more comfortable eating position on the bed, he held his tea cup in one hand and the newspaper in the other. He took a generous sip of tea as he leisurely scanned the front page. Moments later, the newspaper was covered in a spray of steaming tea. He choked and shakily put the tea cup down. He gripped the dripping paper in both hands and quickly read the brief article.

* * *

_**Illicit Lover's Quarrel Disturbs the Peace in the Lobby at St. Mungo's**_

_**Sparks Fly between Severus Snape and Hermione Granger **_

_The golden silence at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was shattered Sunday morning as shouting between Hogwarts Headmaster Severus Snape and former Hogwarts student Hermione Granger ripped through the lobby._

"_I understand that arguments happen," said one anonymous bystander, who still seemed shocked by the morning's events, "but really, St. Mungo's is a place of healing, not a boxing ring. Take it elsewhere I say!"_

_The altercation allegedly began in Severus Snape's hospital room, where he was reportedly being treated for a snake bite to the neck. There were reports of a man yelling, and a short time later, a dishevelled young woman identified as Hermione Granger was seen running from the room and into the lobby._

"_I'm not sure what happened in that room, but I am sure I saw a young lady run away from it faster than a banshee on fire," said one witness._

_It was reported that Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was seen consoling her in the lobby when Severus Snape approached them. The shouting began shortly thereafter. _

"_I saw a young woman with really bad hair and a man in a hospital gown shouting at each other," said another witness. "They were clearly upset. He yelled something about her attacking him, and she yelled something about him calling her beautiful. I also heard something about blood. It was odd really."_

_Why would Hermione Granger attack Severus Snape? Perhaps more curious, why would he call her beautiful? Could it be that there are sparks between the young Gryffindor and older Slytherin?_

"_Sounded like a lover's quarrel to me," said the witness._

_Before the Battle of Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger was missing for months, having been reportedly on the run with former flame, Harry Potter. She is known for her romantic preference in famous wizards, having been publicly involved with both Harry Potter and Quidditch star Victor Krum during the Triwizard Tournament in her fourth year at Hogwarts. She also has reported romantic links to Ronald Weasley, who is known to be Harry Potter's best mate. With her ties to Headmaster Severus Snape, it is apparent that her preferences have evolved to include not only famous wizards, but older famous wizards as well._

_As reported in Sunday's edition of The Daily Prophet, Severus Snape is a confirmed member of the now defunct Death Eaters, and is also the rumored murderer of Albus Dumbledore. Though he remains free, there are many who rally for his immediate arrest. The Prophet will be following this developing story closely. _

_Inside sources say that the Governing Board of Hogwarts is expecting Severus Snape's resignation sometime this week, though it is not confirmed that this is due to his romantic involvement with Hermione Granger. _

"_I think they'd make a cute couple," said Pansy Parkinson, former classmate of Hermione Granger. "Perhaps he could comb her hair, and she could wash his. They obviously aren't capable of doing it themselves."_

_The question remains, what would young and intelligent Hermione Granger want with an older, possibly murderous, wizard who has a reputation of being dark and brooding?_

_Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, and Minerva McGonagall were unavailable for comment Sunday afternoon._

_Rita Skeeter is the best selling author of 'The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore' and is a regular contributor to The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. She is currently busy at work on her latest tell-all biography, 'Snape: Scoundrel or Saviour?'._

* * *

Severus frowned, crumpled the damp newspaper with both hands, and tossed it to the side of his bed. Angrily, he gripped his fork and tore into his boiled egg, finishing it in two gulps. He grabbed a piece of toast and took ripping bites out of it as though it were a chunk of very tough meat. As he chewed, he silently swore vengeance against Rita Skeeter. She would be very sorry indeed.

He idly wondered if Miss Granger had seen the article yet. Though none of this would've happened if she hadn't come to St. Mungo's in the first place, he knew she'd probably find a way to blame this on him. He brought a hand up and rubbed the slightly sore spot on his sternum where she had poked him during their argument. There was a bruise there now, he was sure of it. Thinking of her offending finger made his mind go to her wand. He felt a pang of regret for having given it back to her so quickly. He wondered if his wand was having the same effect on her. As he topped a piece of toast with tomatoes, he couldn't help but to hope so.

* * *

A/N: That was my first attempt at writing something remotely close to a gossip article. I'm not sure I'm happy with it and may revise at some point, but I'll note when I do.

'Snape: Scoundrel or Saviour?' is a slight variation of the Skeeter title 'Snape: Scoundrel or Saint?' JKR mentioned during her Bloomsbury Live Chat on 7-30-07. You can find a transcript of this chat at (translate into your address bar) www DOT accio-quote DOT org.


	16. A Ceremony and an Unexpected Realization

_Disclaimer: Still just having a bit of fun with JKR's characters…_

* * *

**Chapter 16**

**A Ceremony and an Unexpected Realization**

The Battle of Hogwarts Memorial Ceremony began as planned Saturday afternoon at Hogwarts. As Order of Merlin, First Class awardees, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Neville sat in an honorary position along with the Hogwarts faculty at a long table. Each had a self-filling glass of water set in front of them, and Ron had been nervously sipping his since their arrival fifteen minutes earlier. The table was situated on an elevated platform that had been temporarily erected near the base of the goal hoops at one end of the Quidditch pitch. The surrounding stands were lowered to ground level and enlarged for a grand audience. The field itself included a friends and family section, press box, and space for additional standing spectators. To the front of the table, there was a large podium, and the new Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, stood behind it, smiling at the large audience.

For Hermione, the week had gone by in a blur of frantic activity. The trio (now dubbed 'The Triumphant Trio' by the Prophet) was swept from one location to another, flanked by aurors and flocked by Ministry officials. Emotionally, the funerals and memorials they attended were the most difficult, though Hermione found solace in the quiet and calm that came with them. For her, the press conferences were the worst, because it seemed everyone was taking more of an interest in Hermione's love life than in her involvement in the infiltration of the Ministry of Magic or her role in the robbery of Gringotts. She'd much rather discuss that than deny absurd rumors about a supposed love affair with Severus Snape.

On top of everything, she and Ron still weren't speaking. Everywhere they went, the air was heavy with an awkwardness she hadn't felt around him since his suction cup relationship with Lavender Brown. Hermione was grateful Harry didn't try to play mediator between them, and seemed content to just let them brood. He probably had enough on his own mind and couldn't worry about the tension between them. Even if Harry had attempted to make them kiss and make up, it would have been difficult because they were simply around other people and in the public eye to often to do so.

"Is it just me or are the wizard camera flashes much brighter than the Muggle ones?" Harry muttered into Hermione's ear. She turned to him and nodded imperceptibly, trying not to squint at the flood of flashing that surrounded them.

The sound of a amplified throat clearing rang through the pitch and the crowd began to quiet. Minister Shacklebolt had stepped up to the podium to begin his speech.

"My dear brothers and sisters of the magical community," he said, his voice booming over the crowd. "I stand in front of you today not only as your Minister, but also as your friend. Today we stand together, as victors. Together, we have gone through war, experienced misery, fought battles, and together, we have triumphed over evil." The crowd burst into thunderous applause. Minister Shacklebolt smiled at the crowd, letting the whoops and cheers settle before beginning again.

"Yes, together we have won the war, and together, we will recover from the war. Say not you are pure-blood, half-blood or Muggle-born. Say not you are a witch, wizard, house-elf, or goblin. Say not you are a Squib. Say not you are a Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. Say only you are part of the wizarding world, the magical world, _our _world. It is only through unprejudiced unity that we truly prevail. As a unified force, we will work to rebuild a world that is stronger and safer for our future, for our children's future, and for their children's future." Again, applause and cheering broke out through out the crowd.

"I would like to honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice during our struggle against evil. Today, let us recognize those whose lives where lost to secure ours," Minister Shacklebolt said, his voice still penetrating the crowd. He turned to Harry and said, "Harry Potter, if you please."

Harry stood and cleared his throat. His eyes scanned the crowd and Hermione saw him swallow deeply. He walked up to take Kingsley's place at the podium, pointed his wand to his neck, and began to read the names of those who were now dead as a result of the struggle against Voldemort and his followers.

"Alastor Moody, Albus Dumbledore, Amelia Bones, Bathilda Bagshot, Bertha Jorkins, Broderick Bode." Harry spoke slowly. His voice was even, but with each name, it grew softer.

Hermione let her tears slide freely, but silently, down her cheeks. She looked in Ron's direction to try and catch his eye, but he sat stoically, staring blankly into the crowd. She had a feeling he was aware she was looking at him, and was purposely refusing to look her way. Feeling tears begin to drip from her chin, she sighed shakily and glanced in the other direction toward Snape. When their eyes found each other, they locked. She expected him to look away immediately, but instead, his black eyes held her wet ones with an intensity that made her feel dizzy. When it became too much, she was the one to lower her gaze.

"Join me for a moment of silence for those that fell," Harry concluded. The pitch became quiet, and the only sounds to fill the late afternoon air were the scattered coughs, quiet sobs, and soft rustle of robes from the audience.

Though Hermione tried to dedicate her thoughts to the victims, she guiltily found herself thinking about Snape's eyes. With a flutter in her belly, she wondered what would've happened if she had maintained eye contact. Though it frustrated her to no end, her thoughts had been finding their way to him all week. At first, she was only thinking of his wand, but that inevitably led to thoughts of his hands, then ultimately, the wizard himself. Now she'd have his impossibly black eyes on her mind too. She glanced his way again, but he was now looking down at the table with a curtain of hair obscuring all of his face except the end of his hooked nose.

"Thank you, Harry," Minister Shacklebolt said after a few minutes, standing at the podium as Harry returned to his seat between Ron and Hermione. As he sat, Hermione gave him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder.

"In front of you today sit four outstanding youths who performed extraordinary acts of bravery that were of the greatest public service. I am honoured to award each of them with the prestigious Order of Merlin, First Class. Presenting the awards today will be Kreacher, house-elf and war hero." As soon as Minister Shacklebolt finished his sentence, there was a loud crack and the ancient house-elf appeared next to the podium amidst loud applause from the crowd. His eyes glistened with tears, and Hermione could see by his straightened chest that they were proud tears. While looking at Harry, Kreacher snapped his fingers and the awards appeared in his arms.

"Neville Longbottom, please step forward," Minister Shacklebolt said. Neville stood with gusto, causing his chair scrape loudly on the wooden platform and nearly topple over. His cheeks grew noticeably pinker when a few laughs emitted from the table and crowd. He made his way to Kreacher and accepted the award that the house-elf held out to him, then stepped over to the Minister and shook his hand. Minister Shacklebolt motioned for him to stand next to the podium.

"Ronald Weasley, please step forward." Ron stood, his face displaying an expression of fierce pride that reminded Hermione of a lion. As he shook the Minister's hand, she began to feel her heart beat faster.

"Hermione Granger, please step forward."

_Okay, relax, you can do this, _she told herself as she stood carefully and walked around the table to the front. Her parents were somewhere in the crowd, and she wished she could see them. Somehow, just knowing they were out there seemed to calm her nerves a little. She reached Kreacher and began to accept the award he was holding out for her, but he held his grip tight, not allowing her to pull it away. As panic rose in her chest, she shot him a questioning look.

"Kreacher apologizes for the things he said about master's friend," he croaked quietly, finally releasing her award. She smiled down at him, then shook the Minister's hand. As she walked to take her standing place next to Ron, she couldn't help but to seek out Snape. When their eyes met again, her breath caught, but this time he looked away after the briefest of moments.

"Harry Potter, please step forward."

Hermione turned and watched Harry stand from his chair with a face that was locked in a determined expression. She recognized this look as the one he wore before he did something either extremely brave, or exceedingly stupid. She turned her head back toward the crowd and wondered what he was up to. As he shook the Minister's hand, he whispered something in his ear and the Minister nodded.

"Mr. Potter would like to say a few words," he said, his voice echoing through the stands. Harry pointed his wand to his throat and turned to the crowd.

"Um, yes. Hello again," he said, his nervous voice washing over the audience. "Though I am honored to receive this award, I believe there is another who deserves it more than I. I would like to award this person with the Order of Merlin in my place." Ron and Neville both snapped their heads in his direction, their jaws going slack in surprise. Hermione had to fight the urge to stop Harry from speaking because she had a feeling she knew where this was going, though she hoped that she was mistaken.

"He is a brave wizard. He went to the dark places none of us could've gone, and he went there with love in his heart. Severus Snape, please step forward," Harry said.

At first, Snape didn't move, he only looked at Harry, his face expressionless, unmoved. He finally stood when the crowd began to murmur. He approached Harry slowly, his robes lacking their usual dramatic billow. Once he reached Harry, he placed a hand on each of his shoulders, and for a frightening moment, Hermione thought that he was going to shake him. Instead, he leaned down and whispered something in his ear. Harry nodded and lowered his wand to hand it to Snape, who took it and waved it in front of this throat and began to speak.

"While I appreciate Mr. Potter's gesture, I must respectfully decline," he said. His amplified voice seemed to go straight to the pit of Hermione's stomach. "I daresay without him…we would not be here today." He seemed to hesitate a moment before he lowered the wand and handed it back to a crestfallen Harry. His gaze swept over the crowd once more, and he returned to his seat.

It was without thought Hermione followed his retreating figure, and as she retracted her gaze, she caught Ron's eyes that were boring into her with a blazing fury. For some reason, seeing Ron's anger made her realize that in some odd way, she actually _was _attracted to Professor Snape. She swallowed hard as her stomach flipped and her heart began to pound. After the ceremony, she and her parents were to have dinner with some the Hogwarts staff, the other honourees, and their families in the Great Hall. She looked back out at the crowd, attempting to appear calm as she tried to ignore the foreboding feeling that the dinner was going to be an utter disaster.

* * *

A/N: A million thanks to coliemcnoly for her stellar beta-ing! Any mistakes that remain are all mine.


	17. Peas, Carrots, and a Proposal

_Disclaimer: Still just a bit of silliness that doesn't belong to me._

* * *

**Chapter 17**

**Peas, Carrots, and a Proposal**

By the time the ceremony had ended, Severus felt much weaker than he was willing to admit. He was grateful when Poppy quietly whisked him away from the crowd the moment it concluded. He now sat at the edge of a bed in the infirmary examining his neck with a hand mirror. It had stopped bleeding a few days earlier, but the wounds still seemed unwilling to fully close and heal. He knew that when they closed, he'd be left with substantial scarring. As he gingerly dabbed his wounds with the salve Poppy had left out for him, he decided scars were a small price to pay for the crimes he had committed.

"You, Severus Snape, are far too hard on yourself." Severus hadn't heard anyone approach and was surprised to look up and find Minerva standing over him with her lips thinned not in disapproval, but in concern.

"Like you would know, Minerva," he said, returning his attention to his neck.

"I do know," she said, holding a large phial out him. As soon as he saw wisps of silver swirling inside the glass, he knew what the phial contained and snatched it from her hand.

"I suppose you viewed my memories for a laugh?" he asked with venom.

"Actually, no," she said, her voice soft but firm. "It didn't occur to me at the time that the contents of Pensieve might be yours. Seeing as you officially moved from the tower when you resigned a few days ago, I thought if they were yours, you'd have taken them."

"It must have slipped my mind," he ground out. He couldn't believe he had been so careless, especially after mentally berating Potter for doing the same. He had worked so hard to keep his mind off those memories that he had completely forgotten they remained in the Pensieve.

"Well, I apologize for viewing them," she said. She sat down on the bed opposite him. "I assure you, I will not repeat a word of what I saw to anyone."

"So, tell me, when did you indulge? Today? Yesterday?" he asked.

"Not long before the ceremony," she said. She looked up at him and when Severus met her eyes, he was shocked to see a tear roll down her cheek. "Severus, I hope you realize Lily really did lo-" He slammed the mirror in his hand down by his side.

"Do not say it," he said, his voice rough. "She did not love me."

"Severus, she did love you. I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it," she said. "I also believe you would not have knowingly betrayed her. You made some poor choices in the past, I'll admit, but I think your debt is beyond paid. You're a good man, and you've been through enough."

Instead of replying, he stuffed the phial into his robes, then picked up the mirror and stood from the bed.

"I couldn't help but to notice you haven't started using a different wand yet," Minerva said. "Surely you have spares."

"I do, but I'd prefer to use them only as a last resort. My spare wands are not accompanied with the best of memories," he said, shooting her a look that plainly said 'you don't want to know'. Minerva nodded, then stood from the bed. "I do plan to procure a new one once I'm certain Miss Granger has truly ruined my wand forever."

"She's reasonable. I'm sure she'd be willing to allow you to use her wand in exchange for the use of yours," she said, meeting Severus's glaring gaze. She shook her head and continued, "Severus, you are probably the most stubborn man I've ever met. Well, except perhaps Albus. Why does it not surprise me that you'd not agree to an exchange as reasonable as that?"

"Would you so willingly relinquish your wand, Minerva?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in full scepticism.

"I suppose not," she sighed. "Dinner will begin in fifteen minutes. Please, don't be late." Severus groaned.

"Are you sure my attendance is necessary or wanted?" he asked hopefully.

"Both," she said. "You need every opportunity to reinforce our admissions of your innocence. Unless you'd like to share your memories with everyone, that is," she added, frowning at him in a challenging manner.

Fighting back a scathing reply, he bit his tongue and shook his head.

"I thought as much. Well, you'd better hurry and get that neck dressed," she said, standing from the bed. "I'll see you in the Great Hall."

As soon as the door shut behind Minerva, Severus sank down onto one of the beds and raked a hand along his scalp in frustration. He was not looking forward to this dinner. The ceremony had already left him feeling rather shaken, and it wasn't entirely due to Potter's little display of selflessness; it was the way Miss Granger had looked at him. He had detected something akin to curious desire behind her veil of tears. He squeezed his eyelids together as he tried to banish the thought and spark of hope from his mind.

He'd spent much of the last week poring over books on wandlore, and still hadn't found even a hint of the solution to their wand troubles. What was worse, his mind was rebelliously wandering her way more and more each day. Though he tried to convince himself that it was just her wand that had him enamoured, he couldn't wholly deny that it might also be Miss Granger herself. He balled his hands into fists at the thought, and silently swore that he'd be rid of her as soon as the problem with their wands was resolved. As Poppy approached with fresh gauze, he silently reaffirmed to himself that he'd have to find a way to speak to Ollivander as soon as possible.

* * *

Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Neville walked back to the castle surrounded by six auror guards on brooms. Hermione purposely trailed behind Ron and Neville as they crossed the grounds, and was relieved that Harry stayed by her side. She ignored the looks Ron shot her over his shoulder and asked Harry the question that she had been dying to ask.

"Harry, what did Professor Snape whisper in your ear?" she asked. To her surprise, Harry chuckled softly.

"You know, when he put his hands on me, I thought he was going to kill me," he said, looking at Hermione with a sparkle in his eye.

"I'll admit, I did too," she said, smiling back. "Well, what did he say?"

"He said, 'Give me your wand, you bloody Gryffindor idiot', or something like that," Harry said, then suddenly burst into full laughter. Hermione couldn't help but join in, and despite not knowing what was so funny, she let it roll through her body and relieve some of her tension. Ron and Neville both looked back at them curiously, but kept walking.

"Harry," she gasped between breaths, "why are we laughing?" He clutched his side and took gulping breaths of air.

"I'm not sure really," he spluttered. "It's just, I can't believe I did that!"

"Neither can I," she giggled, wiping laughter tears from her eyes. "Actually, scratch that. I can. But really Harry, what were you thinking?"

"I'm not sure," he said, his voice becoming more steady. "For some reason, I've been thinking about our third year when Snape_ didn't _receive the Order of Merlin for apprehending Sirius." Harry's smile slackened a little.

"He was a bit upset, wasn't he?" Hermione said, barely suppressing a shudder at the memory of the utter rage Snape displayed the night she and Harry helped Sirius Black escape.

"I'd say he was more than just _a bit _upset," Harry laughed. "Anyway, I've been thinking about it a lot this week, and I decided that after everything, Snape really does deserve an Order of Merlin and…well, after that, I suppose I just acted on impulse."

"Bloody Gryffindor," Hermione said, smiling and shaking her head at Harry.

* * *

When they arrived at the Great Hall, Hermione was slightly disappointed to see that her parents had not arrived yet. This being their first visit to the castle, Hagrid was treating them to a tour of Hogwarts and its grounds. She smiled, excited they were finally seeing the castle she had raved to them about for six years.

"Harry Potter!" A small man exclaimed, stepping in front them and bowing deeply. He turned to Hermione and bowed again. "And if I'm not mistaken, you're Hermione Granger."

"Dedalus," Harry said smiling. "Hermione, this is Dedalus Diggle. He was one of the aurors that guarded the Dursley's."

"A pleasure," she said, returning his bow. He almost squealed in delight.

"Hermione Granger, bow at me? Hestia will never believe me!" Hermione laughed.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Dedalus," Harry said.

"Well, after I told your cousin about the ceremony in your honor, he insisted on attending," he beamed. Harry gasped.

"You don't mean-" he swallowed hard, looking somewhat awkward. "You don't mean Dudley is here, do you?" he finished, his voice almost a whisper.

"Indeed, I do," Dedalus said, gesturing to the sole occupant of the table that had been set up in the middle of the Great Hall. Dudley looked up with a face as awkward as Harry's and waved.

"Unfortunately, even a well-played tantrum on Dudley's part couldn't convince your Aunt or Uncle to join us. I'm afraid they didn't take well to Side-Along-Apparition," Dedalus said. Dudley stood and approached them.

"Hi Harry," he muttered, holding out a large pink hand with his eyes cast to the floor.

"Hey, Dudley." Harry took his hand and shook it. "Glad you could…uh…make it. Really."

Dudley didn't reply, but looked up and smiled as he released the handshake. He turned toward Hermione and held his hand toward her. Hermione clasped it and smiled.

"I'm Hermione," she said, trying not to grimace under the pressure of his grip.

"I know," he said, and much to Hermione's relief, he released her hand.

"Um…well, it's lovely to see you Dudley," she said. "Are you joining us for dinner, Mr. Diggle?"

"Afraid not. Duty calls you see," he said, puffing his chest out proudly. "It really was a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise," she said. She shuffled her feet in awkward silence for a moment, then said, "I'm going to see if Headmistress McGonagall needs anything, if you'll excuse me?" She gave them all a departing smile and made her way to McGonagall, who had just entered the hall.

"Ah, Miss Granger," McGonagall beamed. "Congratulations, my dear."

"Thanks," Hermione said, blushing. "Did you need help with anything?"

"I believe everything is in order," she said. "Please, have a seat. Everyone else should be arriving shortly."

Hermione nodded and approached the table in the middle of the hall. The usual four house tables were pushed out of the way along the walls. As she approached the table, she noticed that there were name placards with each place setting.

To her relief, she saw that her mum and dad were to be seated to her left, next to the head of the table where Headmistress McGongall would sit. She gulped in dread when she saw that Ron was to be seated directly to her right. She walked around the table and gulped again when she saw that Professor Snape was to be seated directly across from her father.

"Is there a problem with the seating arrangement, Miss Granger?" a silky voice said from behind her.

She jumped and turned on the spot to see Professor Snape standing still as a statue, studying the seating arrangement. She shook her head. He glanced her way for a moment before walking to the other side of the table. She watched as his eyes scanned the name cards. For a moment she thought she detected a slight grimace when his eyes swept over her father's name, but it was quickly replaced by a smirk when his eyes rested on Ron's name.

"Ah, yes," he sneered, "sitting next to your beau. How sweet."

"Ron's not-" she began to protest, but stopped herself when she realized that Ron had walked up next to her.

"He's not what, Hermione?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowed. Hermione sniffed and lifted her chin.

"Nothing," she said, her voice an octave higher than she meant it to be. She walked to the side of the table that Snape was standing at, and pointed to her place at the table. "If you'll excuse me, Professor Snape, I'd like to sit."

"By all means, sit," he purred. He stepped out of her way and gave her an exaggerated gesture of invitation with his hands. She shot him one final glare and sat down, crossing her arms and staring pointedly down at the table. She could practically feel both sets of eyes boring into her, and was relieved when her parents entered hall a few moments later, chatting animatedly with Hagrid.

"Mum, Dad," she said when they came to the table. "How was your tour?"

"It was lovely," Mrs. Granger said, taking her seat next to her daughter. "You know, when you said there were trick staircases, I never really believed you. I mean, what kind of school actually tries to trick its own students?"

"A magic one," Mr. Granger said, patting his wife on the shoulder.

"Hagrid is such a delight," Mrs. Granger said. "He's a wonderful tour guide."

"Jus' doin' me job," Hagrid said, stopping behind Hermione. "Proud of yeh, Hermione."

"Thanks, Hagrid," she said, wincing as he patted her on the back.

"Best off ter me seat," Hagrid said, gesturing to his name placard at the other end of the table. "Sittin' next ter Harry's cousin," he muttered with a chuckle.

Hermione smiled and wished him luck. She then turned to her parents and listened as they detailed the events of their tour. Being able to sit next to them and talk to them still seemed like a dream. Though they'd been back in her life for a week, she hadn't had many opportunities to spend time with them. They'd returned from Australia looking tan and more fit than she had ever seen them. She was surprised, but pleased, to learn they had both been taking surfing lessons. They looked better than Hermione could ever remember, and she almost felt bad they'd had to return. Once the chaos settled, she planned to suggest to them that they return to Australia, but with full memories this time. She had a feeling that things would probably never be quite safe for them in England, and she felt they might be safer if they made another quiet exit from the country. Plus, she'd now be able to visit them there.

As her mother was recounting her run-in with Moaning Myrtle during her stop at the loo, Ron took his seat next to Hermione. When she felt his arm brush across hers as he sat, she couldn't help but to stiffen a little. Though they had spent almost the entire week in each other's company, Harry had been serving as a sort of buffer between the two. This was the closest they'd been since their argument over Rita's article. It seemed that Jean Granger could sense her daughter's trepidation, because she gave her a comforting squeeze on the arm. Hermione smiled reassuringly at her mother's look of concern.

After explaining everything that she'd done while they were in Australia, she had decided it was best if she carefully explained her current situation to both of her parents. The last thing she wanted was for them to think she was actually carrying on an affair with a professor. She showed them the article in _The Prophet _and even explained the situation with her and Professor Snape's wands. The moment she was able to speak with her mother alone, she vented her frustrations about Ron, and had even ventured to tell her about Professor Snape calling her beautiful and annoying. She mentioned the connections that they had shared through the wands, but didn't go so far as to tell her what she had actually seen.

Hermione was relieved when her mother had agreed that Ron was being a complete prat, but blanched a little when she asked how old Snape was. Hermione answered truthfully that she wasn't exactly sure, but thought he must be nearing forty (she was also quick to add that forty was still considered rather young in the wizarding world). Though her mother didn't comment, she had eyed Hermione knowingly, smiling when her daughter's cheeks turned pink.

"You know," Mrs. Granger whispered into Hermione's ear, "those pictures in the newspaper didn't do him justice. He's quite striking in an…angular sort of way."

"Mum," she muttered angrily, nudging her with an elbow. She couldn't stop herself from glancing Snape's way, and much to her relief, he seemed to be having a quiet argument with Madame Pomfrey, who sat next to him.

"My dear guests," Headmistress McGonagall said, standing from her seat at the head of the table. "I'm honored to have you all dine with us this evening. Though most of us know each other, there are a few of us who have yet to meet everyone. I'd like to begin our dinner this evening with a quick introduction of names. If you'd be so kind to start, Mr. Granger?" She gestured at him to begin.

"I'm, uh, Hugh Granger," he said. "Dentist by trade, surfer for fun. My wife Jean and I have been happily married for almost 30 years. My daughter is Hermione Granger. I've always said that she's…"

"Just your name will do," McGonagall said, giving Mr. Granger a thin lipped smile.

"Oh, of course." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Hugh Granger," he said with finality. After that, they went around the table, and each saying their name.

"Jean Granger."

"Hermione Granger."

"Ron Weasley."

"Neville Longbottom."

"Ginny Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

"Like you need an introduction," Neville muttered.

"Dudley Dursley." Hermione almost giggled at the nervous way he was eyeing the giant man that sat next to him at the head of the table.

"Rubeus Hagrid. An' I promise yeh, I won' be turnin' anyone into a pig," Hagrid said, grinning at Dudley, who just gulped and scooted a few inches closer to Harry. The opposite side of the table began to give their names.

"Filius Flitwick."

"Horace Slughorn." He shot Harry a cheeky grin. "Honoured to be seated across from Mr. Potter himself."

"Augusta Longbottom. Proud Gran of Neville Longbottom."

"Molly Weasley."

"Arthur Weasley."

"Poppy Pomfrey."

"Severus Snape." His voice was flat and obviously intoning boredom.

"And of course, I'm Minerva McGonagall. Now, let us begin dinner." With a sweeping motion of her wand, platters of food suddenly appeared and filled the entire space at the middle of the table. Hermione heard her mum, dad, and Dudley gasp, though they got over their initial shock rather quickly and began to pile food onto their plates with as much gusto as Ron.

"You know, Mum, it was the house-elves I told you about that prepared all of this food for us," Hermione said.

"Oh dear, the house-elves," Jean said, slowing her plating of steaming sliced roast beef. "I remember you telling me about those poor creatures."

"Mrs. Granger," Madame Pomfrey said, "I assure you that the Hogwarts house-elves are treated quite well, and with respect."

"Yes, they are," Hermione acknowledged. "Though I still think it prudent for us all to be aware and appreciative of the labor that goes into the preparation of our meals. Along with all the other comforts we take for granted here at Hogwarts." She heard Ron snort loudly through a mouthful of food, but was surprised when Professor Snape began to speak in an almost conversational tone.

"Yes, I quite agree with Miss Granger. I've always felt that the students should be informed that their food does not simply appear from thin air. Perhaps then certain students would be more...mindful...of their gluttony." He looked pointedly at Ron, who was concentrating on his plate too much to even notice the attention. "But then again, perhaps not."

"I'll keep that in mind for the beginning of term speech, Severus. Thank you," McGonagall said. Snape nodded and returned his attention to his plate as Madame Pomfrey watched him eat like a hawk.

"So, you're Severus Snape," Hugh Granger said, motioning toward him with his fork. Snape eyed him a bit warily, but nodded. "It seems you and my daughter are both suffering from the side-effects of that toerag of a journalist. What was her name again, dear?"

"Rita Skeeter," Jean said.

"Ah yes, Rita Skeeter," Hugh said. "Well, Mr. Snape, I assure you, if I come across her any time soon, she'll regret having written one word of that rubbish." He speared a cooked carrot with his fork and stuffed it into his mouth to accentuate his point. Snape curled his lip and nodded at him in agreement.

"Dad please," Hermione said pleadingly, "the last thing I need right now is for my Muggle father to end up in Azkaban."

"Well, they say there is at least a thread of truth to every rumor," Molly Weasley huffed. Hugh, who had begun tucking into his dinner with enthusiasm, dropped his fork with a clang.

"Now dear," Jean Granger said, placing a calming hand on his arm, "I'm sure what Mrs. Weasley meant to say was it may be the case sometimes, but _not_ in the case of our daughter. Right?" She finished with a challenging look in Mrs. Weasley direction.

"Of course, Mrs. Granger," Mr. Weasley said politely, eyeing his wife nervously. He was obviously trying to head off any sort of confrontation.

"If it's not true, then why did she decide to break my poor son's heart?" Mrs. Weasley asked, glaring at Hermione.

"It's no fault of mine he believes the worst sort of gossip columnist over me," Hermione trilled, ignoring the sigh Ron issued next to her. "Really, I thought you'd have all learned _not_ to believe everything you read after she wrote all that rubbish about Harry."

"I'll vouch for Hermione," Neville interjected confidently. "I mean, you should've seen her reaction to Professor Snape calling her beautiful. I don't think she was expecting that!" Neville shovelled some peas into his mouth, seemingly oblivious to the silence suddenly weighing down the table.

"Enough of this silly gossip talk," Headmistress McGonagall said. "Molly, where did you say George was this evening? We do miss his company."

"Oh, he insisted he had work to do at the joke shop," Mrs. Weasley said, shaking her head sadly. Her shoulders began to tremble slightly and she wiped a tear from her cheek. "We all deal with grief in our own way. I suppose working is his."

"Wait a moment," Hugh Granger said suddenly, a suspicious eye now fixed on Snape. "You called my daughter beautiful?"

"I hardly think-" Snape began, but Hermione interrupted him.

"Dad, he was delirious. He obviously didn't know it was me." She shrugged and shot a nervous glance in Snape's direction. "Besides, he called me annoying too."

"More reason to believe he knew it was you," Ron muttered loud enough for the entire table to hear.

"Ron, you weren't there. What would you know about it?" Ginny asked her brother loudly.

"You weren't there either," Ron replied angrily.

"I, however, was there," Snape hissed, "and I assure you, I was indeed delirious."

"See, Ron. Would you stop acting like a child now?" Hermione said, glaring at him in annoyance.

"Yes, perhaps I will. In fact, if there's nothing going on between you two, then I suppose now's as good a time as any," Ron said, standing from his seat. His face was red and he still looked rather upset.

"As good as time as any for what?" Hermione asked. When Ron removed a small black box from his robes, Hermione felt her heart leap into her throat. When he opened it to reveal an antique diamond ring, the table gasped in unison.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione squeaked, amazed that she was able to find her voice.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he said as he began to kneel. "Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"

* * *

A/N: A million thanks to Coliemcnoly for beta'ing.

A huge nod to 'daydreaming redhead' for reminding me that the Dursleys still existed.


	18. Brilliant but Scary

_Disclaimer: Still just silliness that doesn't belong to me._

* * *

**Chapter 18**

**Brilliant but Scary**

_"What does it look like I'm doing?" he said as he began to kneel. "Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"_

Severus almost choked on the piece of bread he was about to swallow. Of all the things the Weasley boy could've said, that was truly the last thing he expected. Clearing his throat as quietly as possible, he set his fork down and sipped some water. He ignored the sudden nervous churn of his stomach and began to calmly dab his mouth with a napkin. The silence seemed to roar in his ears as he waited for Miss Granger to accept the dunderhead's hand in marriage.

"No! I mean…what?" Hermione spluttered, standing and taking a few steps away from him. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm serious, Hermione," Ron said, getting back to his feet. "This isn't something you joke about."

"You don't speak to me for an entire week, and then you suddenly propose marriage to me?" Her voice cracked in anger.

"Well, yes," he said, looking genuinely confused. "All couples fight, right Mum?"

At hearing herself addressed, Mrs. Weasley opened and closed her mouth in an obvious attempt to speak, but she seemed to be at a loss for words. Severus smirked as everyone at the table began casting nervous glances at each other. Hugh Granger seemed frozen, a dripping forkful of meat and gravy hung from the fork in his hand not an inch from his gaping mouth.

"Well, I…uh…I suppose they do," Mrs. Weasley muttered, looking not at her son, but at the ring in his hand. "How, in the name of Merlin, did you manage to get Aunt Muriel's ring?"

"I asked, and she gave it to me. She said I'd earned it," Ron said, jutting his chin out proudly.

"But…but…I'm not ready for this yet," Hermione choked, not seeming to care where he'd gotten the ring. "I mean, I want to take my N.E.W.T.'s, have a proper graduation, and-"

"Come on Hermione, the Ministry's all but offered Harry and I positions as aurors. You won't need to take your N.E.W.T.'s, people will be begging us to work for them. Plus, you wouldn't have to work. I'd take care of you."

"But what if I want to take my N.E.W.T.'s and get a job, Ron? Did you think of that?"

"You won't need them," Ron said exasperatedly. "I mean, you want a family, right? You'd be busy raising our family."

"No! I'm not ready for that yet," Hermione's voice was growing steadily louder. "I'm not ready to turn into your mother yet. I don't want to do what she does."

"What's wrong with what my mum does?" Ron asked, starting to sound angry himself.

"Nothing, but it's not something I want to do right now!"

"I knew it," Ron said, and began to laugh manically. "I knew it! You want to stay near him!" he shouted, pointing at Severus.

"What? This has nothing to do with him!" Hermione screeched. "I want to finish my education. I want to graduate. I don't want to run off and get married right now! Can't you understand that?"

"You're a scarlet woman!" Ron looked positively insane now.

"Don't you dare talk to my daughter like that," Jean Granger said, standing so fast her chair toppled over. She rushed up to her daughter's side and glared at the boy in front of them.

"Ron, calm down," Harry said, standing and putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"No! I will not calm down!" he shouted. "You kissed me." He lifted a shaking finger and pointed it at her, then himself. "_You _- kissed - _me_," he repeated.

"I did, but that didn't mean I wanted to get married!" Hermione yelled.

Severus could see that angry tears were now streaking down her red cheeks.

"But, but," Ron stuttered.

"But nothing, Ron," Hermione said.

"But I love you," he finally said, his voice hard. "You're going to marry me, Hermione Granger."

"Perhaps…but not now. I'm not ready," she pleaded, further succumbing to her tears.

"I don't want to wait," he said. "If you loved me back, you'd marry me. It's either now...or never."

The whole table gasped in unison. Severus rolled his eyes. He truly hoped Miss Granger wouldn't bow to such a melodramatic proclamation. He watched as she took in his words, her head shaking slightly, eyes now cast to the ground. Her shoulders shrunk, and before his eyes, she seemed to wilt into her maroon and black robes like a flower under the midday sun.

"Hermione," her mother said quietly.

This seemed to bring her back, and Severus allowed himself a breath of relief as she grew tall again. The spark of anger returned to her eyes as she looked the redhead in front of her up and down defiantly. Weasley opened is arms in a hopeful gesture, and Severus felt his stomach drop as she smiled at him. Weasley smiled back and took a step toward her, but instead of embracing him, she swung her tightly fisted hand directly into his nose.

After a moment of silent shock at the crack of the impact, the table broke into immediate action. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushed around the table to their bleeding son. Mr. and Mrs. Granger flanked their daughter asking if she was okay. Severus simply shook his head and sat back, lazily taking a long draw from his goblet. He hardly noticed when Minerva stood to join the foray around the Grangers and Weasleys. Finishing the contents of his goblet, he sighed contentedly and decided he'd have a second helping of ham, Poppy be damned.

He had just begun to pile more food onto his plate when he saw Miss Granger pull herself away from her parents and run from the Great Hall. Her parents seemed to hesitate, but after exchanging a glance, they began to follow her.

"Wait," Minerva called after them. "I'll come with you. There's no telling where she's been off to. You don't know your way around the castle."

Though they seemed hesitant, they stopped to wait for the Headmistress.

"Poppy, please take young Mr. Weasley to the hospital wing and fix his nose. Best give him a Calming Draught as well," Minerva said as she rushed to the Grangers. "Molly and Arthur, I suggest you accompany your son."

"Come on then," Poppy said, walking over to Ron and putting a consoling arm around his shoulder. He stood frozen and bleeding, the ring box still held out in his hand.

"But, but," he whispered.

"My dear boy," Mrs. Weasley trilled before bursting into tears and helping Poppy lead him out of the hall.

The Grangers and Minerva had already left, leaving the rest standing and sitting around the table awkwardly.

"I think we should look for Hermione too," Harry finally said to the general air.

The table murmured in agreement. As they each began to set out on their search, Severus stayed seated, glad they didn't seem to take notice of him as they left. He finished his meal leisurely, chewing slowly and savouring every morsel that passed his lips. When he felt more than satisfied, he stood and exited the hall to go to Miss Granger. It wasn't necessary for him to find her, he already knew exactly where she was, and it wasn't the library.

* * *

A/N: A million thanks to coliemcnoly for beta'ing and also for giving me the idea for the chapter title. Off the top of my head, I believe Ron said it in the PofA movie...but I'm not sure if it was in the books. Either way, I love it.

It's such a short chapter…I'm so sorry! After writing this from Hermione's POV, I decided to rewrite it from more of Severus's POV...and that delayed things. I've got to go out of town again tomorrow, and I really fought with myself in deciding whether to post it as a short chapter before leaving, or wait to post it as a longer chapter when I get back. Due to the ending of the last chapter, I decided it was best to post a short chapter before leaving. I hate waiting, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.


	19. The Silver Ladder and Evil Wand

_Disclaimer: ...it's still just a bit of not for profit fun..._

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**Chapter 19**

**The Silver Ladder and Evil Wand**

When Severus neared the final rung of the silver ladder leading to the Divination classroom, he was not surprised to find there were no wards or enchantments up (anymore, at least). With some caution, he pushed open the trapdoor, cringing as it creaked loudly and flipped open with a thud. It was dark, and for a moment, he questioned his judgement in thinking that Miss Granger would be here. As he began to pull himself into the classroom, something sharp pressed into his chest. He froze, immediately realizing that it was a wand.

"Well, well, Miss Granger. Threatening professors now, are we?" The moment he felt the wand lift, he ascended into the room and raised himself to his full height.

"_Lumos_," she muttered. "Professor Snape! I'm sorry sir…I thought you might be Ron." Her red rimmed eyes were squinted against the wand light and, much to his annoyance, they seemed to be focused on his nose.

"I see," he said, scowling when she shifted her gaze to his eyes. "Might I ask what you are doing here? Besides trespassing and pouting in the dark, of course."

"I…I needed a place to think," she said in a shaky voice. "I really didn't think anyone would find me here."

"Oh? Yet I did, with ease," he said, closing the classroom trapdoor with his foot.

"How?" she asked, lowering her wand a little.

"I simply looked in the last place I thought I'd find you," he said, smirking at the look of surprise on her face.

"You know, that's exactly what I thought when I came here," she muttered, obviously rethinking her choice. "I mean, who would think to look for me in the Divination classroom? I hate this place! I really thought it would be the last place anyone would think to look for me."

She jabbed her wand in his direction and took a prowling step toward him. Though her face seemed small in relation to the torrent of chaotic curls that framed it, he realised that the expression it held seemed rather deranged. He could see a glint of her bared teeth as she glared at him through puffy, narrowed eyes.

"And therein lies your mistake," Severus said, taking a few cautious steps away from her. "Next time, do avoid hiding somewhere that falls into any sort of extremity. People are more likely to know your extreme likes and dislikes. Though one can never truly hide at Hogwarts, it would have been better to choose a neutral option. The Arithmancy classroom, perhaps?"

"You have a valid point," she said, taking another dangerous step toward him. "But I must ask, why would _you _think of this as the last place I'd hide?" He took another step back and tried to mask it from her with an exaggerated roll of the eyes.

"Thanks to one Sibyll Trelawney, I'm afraid the entire staff is well aware of the way you feel about the subject. Not to mention the dramatic way you felt compelled to remove the class from your schedule." He took another infinitesimal step back. "I'm afraid subtlety is not one of your strong points, Miss Granger."

"And why did you feel compelled to seek me out, Professor Snape? Was it concern?"

"Concern? Yes, I suppose so." He paused for a moment to let the words hang in the air. When she looked sufficiently confused, he continued. "Yes, you heard correct Miss Granger, I said 'concern'. Concern for _my wand_. You remember it? The one whose allegiance you stole?"

"I did no such thing!" Severus held up his hand to stop the beginning of her tirade.

"We've been through this already. I have no inclination to listen to your excuses again," he said in his most commanding teaching voice. "Now, since you seem to have a functioning wand in your possession, turn on the lights, or ignite that infernal fireplace at the very least." He spun on his heel and pulled out a nearby chair to sit.

"No. You've already found me, and that's one person too many."

She plopped down on a large pillow situated a few tables away from where he sat. He sighed in frustration and picked up the crystal ball that sat on the table in front of him. He turned it in his hands a few times and then replaced it on its stand.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, did you happen to pass any portraits on your way here?"

"Well, obviously, but-"

"Then, _obviously_, Minerva can ask them of your whereabouts. I assume she realized that you needed some time and space before bringing your parents to you. You see, most of the portraits are dreadfully bored; they jump at any opportunity to provide information. This castle holds few secrets to the head as far as students are concerned. Now, light the room."

It appeared she still had no intention of listening to his directive. After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat.

"There's also the small problem of someone happening upon you, in a darkened classroom, with me," he purred. "Surely that will only add fuel to gossip fire surrounding our _relationship_. Unless, of course, you want the fire to be fed."

Severus heard her grumble something incoherent and the room was instantly illuminated.

"_Nox_," she said rather grumpily, and her wand grew dark.

Severus knew she must be using another's wand, but when he saw whose wand she held, he felt an angry tug in his chest. He stood, noisily pushing the chair back. He stared at the wand for a moment then approached her in three large strides. She continued to sit, but looked up at him nervously.

"I know that wand," he growled, standing over her and carefully restraining the temptation to rip it from her hand. "Do tell me I'm mistaken."

"If you believe this to be the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange, then no, you are not mistaken," she said, her voice quiet, but her tone defiant. "I'd rather not use it, but I don't have much of a choice, do I, _sir_? Besides, I feel I've rather earned the right." She held the wand in front of her and studied it as she rolled the wood between her forefinger and thumb. "It being the instrument of my torture after all."

Severus didn't immediately reply. He remembered Bellatrix's pitiful pleas to quell the Dark Lord's fury at the trio escaping Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix swore that though Potter had escaped, she'd broken his precious Mudblood. He swallowed hard.

"Perhaps you're correct in believing you have the right to use it," he said softly, backing away from her, "but that does not mean it _is_ right for you to use it. You're holding a wand that belonged to an evil witch, Miss Granger. To be quite frank, I find the sight of it in your possession rather…unsettling."

"Sorry," she said, stuffing the wand up her sleeve. "I'm well aware the wand has a dark past. I can feel it." She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. Feeling uncomfortable, Severus decided it best to take a seat at a safe distance.

"Poor Neville," she wailed, her tears flowing more freely now. "It must have been very disturbing for him to see me with it. He's the one who recovered my wand from Bellatrix's body, you know. I was so relieved when he handed it to me. I was so grateful." She sniffled loudly and patted the arm where she had stuffed the wand. "I promised him I'd destroy her wand, the wand that cost him a his parents and a normal childhood, but then, so much happened. And my wand stopped working for me…and….and…I'm sorry! I'm just so sorry!" She threw herself back on the pillow and cried hard, her hands covering her face.

Severus watched her with an open mouth. He truly didn't know what to do. He expected she might be upset about Mr. Weasley's stupidity, but he hadn't anticipated her get upset over _this_. Unsure of what to do and feeling slightly guilty that he probably brought it on, he snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Not wanting to look her way, he stared down at the table in front of him. He didn't look up until he heard what might have been a gurgled a laugh. His eyebrows shot up when he found her sitting up again, looking rather damp, but with a small smile gracing her lips.

"I-I can't believe it," she hiccupped. "Severus Snape, afraid of a crying girl? Who would've thought?"

"Excuse me?" He frowned as she stood from the pillow. She laughed softly and continued to approach his table.

"I'm sorry. I'm not entirely sure what's gotten into me. I'm just so tired," she said. He nodded, she did look exhausted. "Well, anyway."

"Anyway indeed," he said, eying her warily as she sat in the chair across the table from him.

"I really am sorry though, for everything," she said quietly, looking down at her hands. They were rested on the table, one on top of the other.

"Miss Granger, please. Your excessive apologies are neither warranted nor necessary. In fact, they are quite tiring. "

He reached across the table and placed his hand on hers, not realizing what he was doing until he felt the warmth of her flesh beneath his fingertips. Time seemed to freeze, and neither tore their gaze from their joined hands. Holding his breath, he kept his hand perfectly still on hers. He wondered if she saw the similarities in their fingers; both were slender and long with slightly knobby joints. While her skin tone seemed to have a touch of honey, his paler tone seemed to have a touch of milk. After a shaky breath, Severus patted her awkwardly and began to pull his hand away, stopping when she winced.

"Sorry, my other hand is a little sore," she whispered. She lifted the hand that had been covering the other, and Severus saw that it was swollen at the knuckles.

"So I see. Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

"I'm not sure really. It's not bad," she said, her breath hitching when he gingerly took her injured hand and began to examine it. Though he felt her eyes on him, he spent his concentration on her hand, brushing her swollen knuckles with a whisper of his fingertips. He gently replaced it on the table and pulled his hand back, sweeping it through his hair before dropping by his side.

"You'll be fine," he said gruffly. "You should visit Poppy, but I don't think you've broken anything. I can't say the same for Mr. Weasley though. I do believe you broke his nose."

"You really think I broke his nose?" She looked at him with a small, slightly guilty smile. "I can't say I'm sorry for it. He was being completely immature, uncaring, unreasonable, un-"

"I get the point," Severus interrupted. "And yes, he was. You certainly need to learn to control your temper, Miss Granger." He shot her an entertained smirk.

"Oh? I don't think I'm the only one here that needs to work on their temper," she grumbled. His eyebrows shot up at her obvious attempt to goad him.

"Be that as it may, our tempers are not why I am here," he said, leaning back into his chair.

"You said you were here out of concern for your wand. I haven't been able to do much research being pulled around like a travelling exhibition, and the little I have managed to do yielded no results. I assume you've done plenty of research, being that you haven't left Hogwarts since you were released from the hospital."

He felt a flash of anger at her words.

"If you think that I have stayed here by choice, you are mistaken," he hissed, sitting forward in his chair again. "Do you think I want to be stuck behind these stone walls while the wizarding world speculates on my loyalties? That I find the accusations I bedded a student entertaining? Hmm?"

"No, that's not what I meant."

"Indeed? Then what was your meaning?"

"I'm sorry sir. I spoke without thinking," she said, her eyes becoming watery. Severus wanted to smack his head on the table. He hadn't meant to make her cry again.

"I seem to remember requesting no more apologies from you. There's no need to apologize. You didn't know," he said. The frustration was evident in his voice. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. They sat in silence for a moment as both regained their composure.

"It seems I've been placed on a sort of unofficial house-arrest until my trial next month. At the moment, I'm willing to comply with the Ministry's request that I not leave the school grounds. If the Minister for Magic were anyone but Kingsley, I might not be so agreeable. I trust him, and I'm inclined to believe he trusts me." He paused for a moment, unsure of why he was telling the girl all of this. He shrugged slightly and continued. "In truth, I think I'm quite lucky to not be in Azkaban. I suppose I have Nagini to partially thank for that." He motioned to his bandaged neck. "And yes, your assumption was correct, I have had plenty of time to do research."

"And?" He saw that her eyes brightened the moment he said the word 'research'. He sighed.

"I've found nothing of consequence."

"Oh."

"Have you any theories on the behavior of our wands?" he asked, curious to hear what she thought about it.

"I've thought about it quite a bit," she admitted. "Don't you think it's odd our wands seem to be blocking us almost completely?" Severus nodded. "Also, why did we seem to share thoughts? Or I suppose they were more like…" she hesitated and blushed. He watched with an expressionless face as she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "Memories. Why did we seem to share memories? And why _those _memories in particular?"

"I assume that you are not a Legilimens?" She shook her head. "I thought not. I have a theory, but before I share it, I'd like to hear what you think."

"Well, my first thought was that our wands purposely directed those memories between us. I don't see why…or even how." She paused, her brows furrowing in thought. "And what Dumbledore said about me 'overpowering your heart and soul', or some rubbish, doesn't seem to fit. I mean, my wand seems to have taken a fancy to you, and I don't think you overpowered _my_ heart and soul. Maybe my wand chose you for the same reason your wand chose me? I don't know."

"We seem to be thinking along the same lines," Severus said, looking at her thoughtfully. "It almost seems the wands are acting of their own accord. I've gone through countless books and have found no reference to a wand behaving in such-"

"Ollivander," she blurted suddenly. "We need to speak to Ollivander."

"Yes, Miss Granger, we do," he growled, annoyed at her interruption. "I'm afraid there's a slight problem though."

"I'm sure we could convince him to meet with us here, since you can't leave."

"My confinement is not the problem." He gave her a meaningful look, hoping she'd understand. It took a second, but her lips formed an 'o' of comprehension.

"You don't mean that you-"

"Yes, Miss Granger, that is exactly what I mean. Though I wasn't a participant in his torture, I was present for it more than once," he hissed, hating himself for the shade of white that frosted her recently pink cheeks.

"Well, I'm sure he understands. I mean, how can he not?" Severus raised an eyebrow. "I'll speak to him. I'll convince him to meet with us."

"You can't conduct this meeting on your own?" he asked, surprised that she didn't suggest it right away.

"Absolutely not. You need to be there too," she said. He was pleased to note that some color was beginning to creep back into her cheeks. "His shop is having a re-opening celebration next week. Of course, 'The Triumphant Trio' has to be there. I'll speak to him then. I'm sure that once I tease him with a few details of our troubles, he won't be able to resist meeting with us. What's happening with our wands is rare, and I'm sure it'll pique his curiosity."

"Though I don't have the highest confidence in your powers of persuasion, I suppose I don't have any other option," he said, hoping his barb would challenge her.

She grinned at him mischievously, and he realized, perhaps his only option wasn't such a bad one after all.

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A/N: Thanks to coliemcnoly for betaing.


	20. Photographic Memory

_Disclaimer: Twenty chapters means twenty ways to say that this is just a bunch of not for profit silliness._

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**Chapter 20**

**Photographic Memory**

Holding his quill stiffly, Severus scratched away on the parchment in front of him and tried to look anywhere but at the photographs on the front page of the Daily Prophet. This proved to be rather difficult because Minerva was shaking a copy of it dangerously close to the tip of his nose.

"Severus, are you even listening to me? Have you seen today's _Prophet_? And to whom are you writing?" she asked. Severus stopped writing and grunted in frustration.

"So many questions, _Headmistress_. Unfortunately yes, I am listening. No, I don't care to see that rubbish," he growled nodding toward the paper. "And I'm not writing to anyone. I'm documenting the method for the Blood-Replenisher Potion I created for the sake of public record. Remember that potion? The one that saved my life and allowed Miss Granger to take credit for it while stealing my wand? Now, as you can see, I'm busy."

"I'm not going anywhere until you explain yourself," she said, slamming the paper down on the desk in front of him with an open palm. He calmly set his quill into an ink bottle and looked at her for a moment before glancing down at the paper.

"I don't see anything but your hand covering most of the paper," he said, taking some satisfaction in stoking the flame of her frustration. She pulled her hand away and clenched her fists so tight, her papery skin stretched white over her knuckles. He shook his head and looked down at the paper. He didn't say anything as he studied it stoically, concealing that his blood was now pounding uncontrollably, almost painfully, through his heart.

"Well?" she asked, folding her arms in front of her. "What's going on between you and Miss Granger? And please, don't say 'nothing', because I won't believe you. Just look at these pictures."

Severus looked up at Minerva as he leaned back in his chair. Tapping the fingers of his right hand lightly on the newspaper, he wordlessly motioned for her to sit down in the chair in front of the desk with the other hand. She sat mechanically, her back straight and her arms crossed. As she met his eyes with her most sour glare, Severus again swore that Rita Skeeter would rue the day she was born.

"If I said _nothing _I'd be speaking the truth, Headmistress, but...I suppose I could also say that I'm not entirely sure." He paused as his gaze was drawn back to photographs in the Prophet like magnets. "It has something to do with the wands, I'm sure of it."

* * *

"I'M - SORRY - HERMIONE!"

"Ron, please. You don't need to yell. I'll hear you just fine if you talk normally," Hermione said. She stood in her parents' kitchen with a telephone held a safe distance from her ear. She was surprised when it rang and even more surprised when she heard Ron on the other end.

"Oh, right. Sorry," he muttered. "I've only used a telepathicone once."

"It's called a telephone, Ron. And where did you get my number?"

"From Harry of course. I was going to send an owl, but he thought it might be faster if I telephoned you, with our post being screened for safety and all," he grumbled. "Anyway, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."

"Yes you are," she said stiffly.

"I really am." He sighed. "I guess what I'm trying to say that I shouldn't have proposed to you like that. I'm so sorry Hermione. I don't know what got into me."

Hermione twisted the phone cord with her fingers and traced the outline of a kitchen tile with her toe. She wasn't sure what to say because she was still quite upset with him. Taking a deep, calming breath, she tried to think of something to say.

"Hermione?" His pleading voice brought a lump to her throat.

"I'm not ready to forgive you yet Ronald Weasley, but I'm willing to be civil, if you are."

"I think I can be civil. Mostly, at least," he said, the relief evident in his voice. After a moment of awkward silence, she heard him take a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

"I've been visiting Lavender Brown at St. Mungo's. She wanted me to tell you thanks."

"Thanks for what? I didn't stop him in time." Hermione swallowed hard as she recalled the memory of Fenrir Greyback pouncing on Lavender's fallen body.

"She's alive," he offered.

"She might be a werewolf! I didn't stop Greyback before he ripped into her!" she said in a shrill voice.

"Neither did I! Nor Harry! You were fantastic Hermione. She might not be alive if you hadn't blasted him away from her."

"So how is she?" she asked, blinking back the tears that were welling up in her eyes.

"She's doing as well as can be expected. It's a lot like Bill's recovery after he was attacked by the bastard of a werewolf. She's lucky really. He only bit her once before your curse hit him. It's at the base of her neck. She has a few scratches on her arms from him too."

"Do they think she'll be a full werewolf? It wasn't a full moon that night, but he certainly looked like a werewolf to me when he attacked her."

"They don't think so, but we won't really know for sure until the full moon," he said. "Her recovery's a bit slow because she had so many other injuries. Her healer said she came in with a broken leg, collarbone, arm, and a few cracked ribs. Those are all fixed now though. It's the werewolf injuries that don't want to heal."

"Have you been visiting her a lot?"

Ron hesitated, then said, "Hermione, I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"I kissed Lavender yesterday."

"Oh," she said, feeling surprised by the news. He'd just proposed to her last week. Steadying herself with a hand on the wall, she tried to understand what this meant. She didn't really think he meant what he said about marrying him then or never.

"It just happened, you know," he said, his voice thick. She imagined he was fighting back tears as well. "We've had all this free time since the ceremony, and Harry's been rather preoccupied with Ginny. Hanging around the Burrow is down right depressing lately, so I've been spending a lot of time at the hospital. With her. She's really changed, Hermione. When we talk, everything just seems to click now."

"Oh," she said again. She knew exactly what he meant.

"Well? Are you upset with me again? I'd like to take some precautions if you plan to break my nose again."

"I'm not sure how I feel about it," Hermione answered truthfully. She was shocked and obviously not happy about it, but she realized she wasn't particularly upset either. "It's just rather sudden. I seem to remember you proposing marriage to me not even a week ago."

"I know. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't expect it to happen, and…well, I just thought that I should tell you the truth. Can you forgive me?"

She sighed loudly then said, "Thank you for…you know, being truthful, but please don't ask me to forgive you right now. I need some time. As I said before, I'll be civil."

"So, you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied, she wasn't really wasn't sure. She only knew that she wanted to get off of the phone with him immediately. "My mum's probably looking for me. I guess I'll see you at Ollivander's tomorrow?"

"I'll be there."

"See you tomorrow then." She started to hang up the phone when she heard Ron start to shout again.

"Oi, Hermione! Wait! You there?"

"I'm here Ron, no need to yell," she said wearily.

"Right. Anyway, did you see Sunday's Prophet?" he asked.

"No. My parents and I have been avoiding its…content," she replied warily.

"There's some nice pictures of you and Snape at the ceremony on the front page."

"Are you still on about that?" She knew it, he was still upset. She hoped that wasn't why he had kissed Lavender.

"No, no…it's not that." She was surprised by the tone of his voice. It was quiet, and almost sounded defeated. "It's just…well, you need to see them. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow then," she said, then replaced the phone on its cradle. She stared at it for a moment, then set out to find Sunday's paper.

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A/N: Ollivander coming up next!

This time, I was slowed by a technical difficulty I stumbled upon while writing this chapter - Lavender Brown. When I thought back on Deathly Hallows while writing, it dawned on me that I wasn't entirely sure what happened to her. I seemed to recall her being very injured, but wasn't sure if she actually survived or not. So…wanting to stay at least semi-true to canon (I didn't want to resurrect more than one character), I went back to research her fate and…well, not only does JKR not really mention whether she survived or not, there was a paragraph that made it sound like she might have been bitten by Greyback (see Chapter 32: The Elder Wand; page 646 of the US version).

I got stuck on this canon technicality and couldn't decide one way or the other. Luckily, the HP fandom has so many wonderful and helpful people in it. I asked around to get other interpretations, and it was pretty much split - half felt she was bitten; half felt she wasn't. So, for the sake of peppering my fic with something a little different, I decided to go with a single bite and some scratches.

HUGE nods to those who graced me with their insight: coliemcnoly, wywrite, and hobgoblin. Also, another HUGE nod to hobgoblin, who pointed me to the yahoo group, 'loose canon'. I threw the question out to them, and their thought provoking responses were so wonderful!

If you have any thoughts on the Lavender issue, feel free to share!

More than a million thanks to coliemcnoly for her beta-ing and moral support.


	21. A Golden Wand & Glittering Yellow Onions

_Disclaimer: Still not mine. Just a bit of fun._

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**Chapter 21**

**A Golden Wand & Glittering Yellow Onions**

"Thanks for finding time to speak to me before your re-opening ceremony, Mr. Ollivander," Hermione said as she followed him to the back of his shop.

"Time is something I don't mind finding when I see a face like yours," he said, opening a door to reveal a warm and damp office. "Though I'm afraid it's a limited amount of time."

She hesitated at the entrance as she looked at the large oak desk that filled almost the entire room. It was covered with piles of musty parchment that spilled onto the floor around it. Behind the desk sat a grand velvet chair that may have been a rich red once, but was now dulled to faint burgundy by a skin of dirt and mold. He motioned for her to enter with a gesture of a spindly hand. She smiled weakly and entered as he closed the door behind her.

"Vine, dragon heartstring, thirteen inches. Yes, yes…I remember your wand Hermione Granger. Though when we last met, I recall you using a different wand. Let's see, it was walnut…the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange if I'm not mistaken."

She nodded and he motioned for her to sit in a simple wood chair that sat to the side of the desk. She had to suppress a cringe as he settled into the velvet chair, seemingly oblivious to its condition.

"An evil woman," he muttered, his silver gaze lost in the air above her right shoulder. He shook his head for a moment, then cleared his throat to continue. "I assume you wish to speak to me because you don't care to use her wand anymore. You hope to find another wand to better suit you?"

"Actually sir, my original wand was returned to me," she said, producing it from the sleeve of her robe.

"Splendid!" he exclaimed, anxiously standing to reach across the corner of the desk to retrieve the wand from her.

"Yes," she smiled weakly, "I suppose so." Ollivander looked at her for moment then studied the wand.

"I hold the wand of a very lucky witch here in my hand," he said quietly, his eyes stilled intently on the wand. "Not many who have their wand taken by Death Eaters live to tell the tale, and those that do rarely see their wand again. Yet here you are, sitting in my office, in possession of your taken wand that seems to no worse for wear. What I don't understand is the expression I saw on your face earlier, and the one you wear now. It plainly speaks 'wand troubles'. So what, exactly, is the problem?" She couldn't help but to gulp when he looked up at her.

"Well, it won't work for me."

"What do you mean it won't work for you?"

"I mean exactly that. It doesn't work for me anymore. I can't perform magic with it at all," she said.

"No magic at all?" he asked, looking sceptical. "You mean to say your magic seems clumsy with it?" She shook her head. "Then surely your magic has failed?"

"No sir, I can do magic with Bellatrix Lestrange's wand," she said, producing it from her other sleeve. "The most I've been able to produce with my wand is a slight wobble while trying to levitate a quill." His eyes lingered on Bellatrix's wand for a moment before he held her vine wand out to her.

"This I must see," he said, his eyebrows quirked in curiosity.

She set Bellatrix's wand on the desk and took her own vine wand in hand. Pointing it at the moldy velvet chair in which he sat, she said, "_Scourgify."_ Ollivander turned in his chair and inspected the fabric, his brow furrowing when he saw there was no change.

"I must ask that you try another spell," he said. She nodded and pointed her wand at an amber paperweight that was nearly lost in a sea of parchment.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" It might have moved slightly, but she wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't just a trick of her eyes.

"Let me see that wand," he almost hissed, standing and taking it from her hand before she could offer it. He examined it so close to his face that it nearly touched the end of his nose. He made wine pour from it's tip directly onto the large desk (Hermione pushed her chair away to avoid the quickly spreading crimson puddle), he produced a bouquet of flowers that was hastily thrown behind his chair. He then pointed it at a pile of parchments and set them on fire, and finally, after putting the fire out with yet more wine, he flopped back into his chair. He pulled an ancient handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped some sweat from his forehead. Hermione sat patiently while he recovered.

"This wand seems to be in perfect order," he panted, still slightly breathless from his frantic testing. "You say that while you cannot perform magic with this wand, you are able with the other wand?"

She nodded, took up the other wand, and cleaned not only the spilled wine on his desk, but also the fabric of his chair. It was indeed a very nice shade of red.

"This is very curious, my dear girl. Being a witch, you have the ability to channel your magic through any instrument, though the best result will always come from a wand that has chosen you. Do you know why that is?" he asked.

"There is a connection between the wand and its witch or wizard. A sort of mutual affinity," she said confidently.

"Correct," he said, still holding her wand. "For a wand to completely block its witch's magic is rare indeed. Somehow, you have broken your connection with this wand, or it has broken its connection with you. This must've happened for a reason, so I must ask, Hermione Granger, what happened to cause this?"

"I think it has something to do with Professor Snape's wand, sir."

"Severus Snape?"

"Yes. You see, this all started when I recovered his wand after the battle. It now seems he's having the same problem with his wand as I am having with mine," she said, inwardly smirking at the innocent tone she was working into her voice.

"His wand is blocking him?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yes," she said. "And that's why I'm here sir. We wanted to meet with you to see if we could work out a solution and reclaim ownership of our own wands."

"Severus is here?"

"No…he actually can't leave Hogwarts at the moment," she mumbled.

"Really, and why is that?"

"Well, it's temporary. Only until his Ministry hearings, which could be as soon as next week. So please, will you meet with us there? When you have time of course," she added.

He leaned back in his chair and looked toward the ceiling, obviously thinking it over. After a moment, he sat up straighter and looked directly at Hermione. She couldn't help but be nervous that he might refuse.

"Seeing Severus Snape won't be easy for me due to...recent events, but I believe that I'm strong enough now to face him. I know now what happened was no fault of his own, and if it weren't for his contributions, we might've lost the war."

Hermione nodded, unable to suppress the shiver that travelled down her spine. He smiled weakly and handed her the vine wand he still held in his hand. She took it and stowed it away safely in her sleeve.

"Besides, you've been quite successful in igniting my curiosity," he said with an almost mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'm afraid I won't be able to quench the curiosity until I hear the full story of your wand troubles. So yes, I'll meet with you. Tomorrow evening if you'd like."

"Thank you sir," she beamed. "If tomorrow is too soon, we'll understand. You must have a mountain of orders to fill due to your…absence."

"That I won't deny," he nodded grimly, "but tomorrow at dusk will be fine. You see, I've hired on a shop assistant. With her help, I'll be able to satisfy all the requests much faster than if it were just me."

"A shop assistant, that's wonderful!"

"Yes, Luna officially starts today," he said, smiling.

"Luna Lovegood?"

"The very one. I'm afraid I frequently bored her with talk of wandlore during our stay in the Malfoy dungeon. In fact, I expected that when we were freed, she wouldn't want to see or hear about another wand for as long as she lived. But no, Luna is a remarkable girl. When she got word I was opening the old shop again, she owled and insisted that she help me keep shop until it was time for school to start."

Hermione was about to ask how Luna was doing when there was a soft knock on the door.

"And that will be Miss Lovegood herself. Come in, my dear, come in!" Ollivander called.

Smiling, Hermione stood from her chair as Luna opened and floated into the room. Her robes were deep purple and dotted with flecks of yellow glitter. Onion earrings dusted with matching glitter dangled from her ears. When she saw Hermione, she returned her smile.

"I thought you might be in here, Hermione. Hello Mr. Ollivander," she said. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"It's so good to see you Luna," she said, meaning it, but also feeling awkward because she wasn't sure if she should embrace the other girl.

"Likewise," Luna trilled, stepping forward and holding out a hand. "Though I've seen plenty of you in the newspapers lately." Hermione felt furious a blush rise to her cheeks as she shook her hand.

"I suppose you probably have," she muttered, feeling a twinge of anger that the entire wizarding world probably still thought she was carrying on with Professor Snape because of the photos that were published in Sunday's _Prophet._

"Of course, not in my dad's paper. He doesn't publish such rubbish. Oh, Harry and Ron were looking for you. They saw your Auror guard was here, so they know you've arrived," she said, then turned to Ollivander. "You've got quite a crowd outside the shop, we probably shouldn't keep them waiting long."

"Right, right. We may as well get this over with, eh?" he said, standing from his chair. "So, we're set then, Miss Granger. You and Severus can expect me at Hogwarts tomorrow evening."

The three moved to the door and Hermione took a deep breath before stepping out of the office into the shop. This being her first public appearance since the photos surfaced, Hermione knew she was in for a long afternoon of silly questions. She was also worried that if Rita made an appearance today, she might not be able to stop herself from hexing the witch into next week. Hermione had already decided that attacking Rita in public was not the best way to exact her revenge. She would wait, because she was sure Snape would no doubt be interested in some information she harboured on the poisonous journalist.

"There you are Hermione," Harry said, approaching her with Ron following hesitantly behind. She felt a pang of anger when her eyes met Ron's. Harry strode forward and shook hands with the still frail looking man.

"Mr. Potter, always a pleasure. And Mr. Weasley," he said, shaking his hand as well. "I do appreciate the three of you coming. Though I suppose the Ministry requested you make an appearance, and that the request was more of an order."

"We wouldn't have missed it for the world, Mr. Ollivander," Hermione said, and Harry and Ron nodded.

"Well, thank you," he said, his silver eyes watery. "Luna, I suppose we should let these three get ready to be the ring leaders of the impending reporter circus."

"See you soon," she said airly. "And good luck Hermione. There's no doubt they're going to ask you a lot of questions about Professor Snape."

"Uh, thanks Luna," she said, not really thankful for the reminder. She was not looking forward to having to deny a new wave of questions about her and Snape's fictitious relationship. Luna waved merrily and followed Ollivander to the front of the shop.

Hermione sighed at the sight of people now crowding closer around the front door. She could faintly hear the disjointed symphony of excited murmurs. Outside, there was a podium set up to the right of the front door where Harry would soon be speaking while she and Ron stood dutifully by his side. Before his shop officially reopened for business, Ollivander was to be presented with the Ministry's newly created Golden Wand Award for his services to the wizarding world.

"So, how are you Hermione?" Harry asked, eyeing her a bit warily.

"I'm fine," she said. "How are you?" She was surprised at the stiff note in her voice.

"I'm doing well," Harry said. "I'm still at the Burrow until Grimmauld Place is deemed safe for my return. Ginny says hello, by the way." Hermione smiled, suddenly feeling wistful for both the overcrowded house of redheads and dark ancestral home of Black.

"And you, Ron?" she asked, trying not to sound strained.

"I'm, uh, good, I suppose," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Just been doing a bit of this and that...you know."

"That's nice. A bit of this and that with quite a bit of Lavender on the side," she said, unable to stop the words from spilling from her mouth. Ron's face reddened visibly and Harry shook his head sadly.

"Look, can we just make it through the next few hours peacefully?" he pleaded. "Then you can fight, or talk, or do whatever you need to do to work this out between you."

Hermione and Ron nodded, pointedly avoiding each others eyes. Hermione had already decided that she would leave as soon as she possible to avoid having to speak to Ron about anything. She wasn't ready yet. If he pushed her, she knew he'd probably end up with another broken nose. Though she thought she might be able to handle it, she realized that it was still too soon to be civil.

"Thank you," Harry breathed. She could hear the crowd outside begin to clap wildly and Harry took a deep breath. "I suppose that's our cue. I hate speaking in front of people." He cast his friends a nervous glance. Ron patted him on the shoulder and Hermione squeezed his hand.

"Well, we may as well get this over with," Hermione said. Ron and Harry nodded in agreement, and without another word, they headed to the front door, all three cementing in place their most sincere false smile before the door was pulled open and they stepped out into the crowd.

* * *

Later that evening, Hermione sat at the small desk in her bedroom, bent over a piece of parchment, carefully writing out (for the fifth time):

_Dear Professor Snape_

The first time she had written it, her S's seemed too loopy, while in the second writing, they seemed too stiff. On her third attempt, the "P" in "Professor" seemed too prominent and the rest of the letters seemed too small. The fourth try seemed fine, until she realized she had written "Dearest Professor Snape" instead of "Dear Professor Snape".

As soon as she added a carefully hooked comma, she placed her quill in an ink bottle and absent-mindedly blew on the parchment to dry the ink. She sighed in relief when she saw that it seemed perfect this time.

She leaned back in her chair and stretched her back, amazed at how much time she had wasted on writing three little words. Not even knowing where to go from there, she stared at the ceiling in frustration. She was only writing to let him know of the meeting with Ollivander tomorrow. Why she was finding the composition of such a simple letter so difficult, she really didn't know.

Gritting her teeth slightly, she sat forward and pulled the top right drawer of her desk open and took out a carefully folded section of newspaper. She moved the parchment aside and set the newspaper in front of her, unfolding it and smoothing a hand over the creases. She'd found herself dwelling over the pictures in the Sunday Prophet since Ron had told her about them to her over the phone the day before. Each time she entered her room, she couldn't help but to take the paper out and look at it for a bit.

She had mixed feelings about the photos it featured of her and Snape. They were taken while they were on stage during the Battle of Hogwarts Memorial Ceremony. She was truly embarrassed by one of the largest photos: Professor Snape leaving the podium after declining to accept Harry's Order of Merlin, but unfortunately, the focus wasn't on him, it was on her. It was obvious that her eyes were fixed firmly on his retreating figure with a decidedly admiring expression on her face.

The other dominating photo brought a flutter to her stomach, as it was similar to the last, except it was him watching her approach the podium to accept her Order of Merlin. There he was, clapping discreetly with an expression on his face that she had never before seen him wear while looking at her: approval.

It was the two smaller photos that made her heart jump wildly in her chest. There, replaying over and over again on the newspaper, was the moment when their eyes had locked while Harry read the names of the fallen. One photo was focused on her face, and the tears streaming from her eyes did not mask the curiosity they held. The other was focused on his face, and it was this photo she couldn't tear her gaze away from. The intensity of his stare, even in the photograph, was powerful. She realized that his usually empty eyes seemed to be brimming with emotion. The brows that framed them were held neutral, his lips were unreadable, yet his eyes spoke of need, concern, relief, comfort, guilt, sadness, happiness, and every other emotion she could fathom. When she looked at this photo, she could think he felt any of these things, and see it there.

Swallowing hard, Hermione carefully folded the paper again, tucking it back into the drawer. She wanted more than anything to know what he had been thinking at that moment. She wondered what emotion was really playing in his mind as they were lost in each other's stare. She shook her head and pulled the parchment in front of her again. Picking up her quill, she felt a renewed determination to write a simple letter about a simple matter of a meeting. As she carefully formed each letter with the tip of her quill, she wondered if Snape had seen the photos, and if they'd had the same bewitching effect on him as they did her.

* * *

A/N: A million chocolate frogs to coliemcnoly for her support and beta-ing.

Also, a quick note on the length of Hermione's wand. I toyed with the idea of giving Hermione a wand that was longer than Harry and Ron's…but decided to go with an even thirteen after going back and reading that Ron's second wand was fourteen inches. I couldn't see Hermione with a wand that big.

You know, sometimes I just can't help but to giggle while writing about all of this wand stuff…I constantly write phrases that could possibly be read as a double entendre - I assure you, it is unavoidable and should not be interpreted as such. Unless of course you need a laugh, then interpret away you pervs! ;)


	22. Parchments, Photographs, and a Potter

_Disclaimer: Severus Snape, how do I not own thee? Let me count the ways...disclaimer 1...disclaimer 2...ah hell, there's 22 ways so far, and more ways to come. These characters just do not belong to me!_

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**Chapter 22**

**Parchments, Photographs, and a Potter**

"I've brought potions to replenish your stores, Poppy," Severus said from the door frame of her office. She started and bolted upright from her chair, sending a pile of paperwork cascading to the floor. Severus immediately strode into the room and began to collect the fallen parchments.

"Severus!" she cried, clutching a hand over her heart. "You scared the magic petunias out me! Don't you know how to knock?"

"The door was open," he muttered, placing sheets haphazardly back onto the desk. "What is all of this rubbish?"

"The Ministry requires a report on all injuries that occur on school property. As you can imagine, there were quite a few during the battle," she said, slightly breathless.

"You ought to find someone to help you," he said, still scooping papers from the floor.

"Oh dear, let me get that. You shouldn't strain yourself," Poppy said, and with a flick of her wand, all the parchments were placed back on her desk. "Yes, I'd love to find some help, but I'm afraid everyone's rather tied up in their own affairs at the moment."

"Ah, Severus, there you are," McGonagall said, walking into the office and saving Severus from almost offering to help Poppy with the reports. "My goodness Poppy, it looks like you've actually made a dent in your paperwork."

"I suppose I have. I hope to be done by Christmas."

"But it's only May," McGonagall said.

Poppy nodded wearily and sank back into her chair. Severus wondered why he hadn't noticed the dark circles around her eyes until this moment.

"Poppy, I insist we find you some help. In fact, I think I know just the person to ask," McGonagall said, a pleased smile on her face.

"Well, I won't say no to help if you find it."

"I will, I assure you. I actually came down here hoping to find you, Severus." McGonagall held a sealed envelope out to him. He eyed it warily a moment before taking it from her hand. "It's from Miss Granger. It no doubt explains why she needs me to arrange a floo connection from her house to my office later this evening." She tilted her head slightly and began to tap a foot. Severus glanced at her foot and stuffed the envelope into his robes.

"I see," he said. They stood in silence for a moment, McGonagall obviously waiting for him to elaborate.

"Fine, Severus Snape, you don't have to tell me anything, because I'm sure Miss Granger will fill me in completely when she gets here this evening," she finally huffed. He rolled his eyes and turned back to Poppy.

"Now, as I've been _trying _to tell you, I've brought all the potions your stores lacked. I believe I've covered everything, but if you require anything else, you know where to find me," he said.

"Oh? Does she? I looked for you yesterday evening and this morning to give you that blasted letter, but you were nowhere to be found. I wonder, Severus, how were you able to do all of this brewing when you weren't in your office, your lab, your classroom, your quarters, or anywhere else I looked? Hmm?" McGonagall asked, her foot tapping faster.

Severus frowned and slowly turned to face her again. For the first time since Nagini's attack, he had been brewing in his secret, deep dungeon lab. He'd felt drawn to it like an addict to his vice. He wanted to escape the memories of recent events that lingered and refused to leave his mind. He'd brewed the entire evening and morning away, waiting to extract the comfort he used to feed upon from the damp and potion-fumed air. It hadn't come. And now, after failing to find solitary solace, he was having to answer to someone who was decidedly not his mother. He narrowed his eyes and glared for a moment.

"In my _other_ lab," he said flatly. "Not that it's any of your business."

Without another word, he brushed past McGonagall and exited the infirmary before his anger boiled over and burned her. She'd been on his case since she'd confronted him about the photos in the Sunday _Prophet_, and he'd had quite enough_. _He hoped that perhaps a visit from her precious cub Granger would tame the old witch.

As he swept through the corridors toward his office, he pulled the letter from his robes. He turned the quality crème envelope in his hand a few times before breaking the simple red wax seal (a "G", no doubt representative of both her name and house, much like his own "S" seal). He pushed the door to his office open more roughly than was perhaps necessary and took a seat behind his desk, pulling the letter from the envelope and unfolding it.

It was short, and he finished scanning its words before even settling into his chair. It simply informed him that she'd secured a meeting with Ollivander for this evening and that she'd arrange for her arrival through the Floo Network with Headmistress McGonagall. His hope was rekindled that Ollivander might have some idea of what happened with their wands and how to reverse it. She'd been haunting his thoughts and dreams since they shared that initial connection through his wand at St. Mungo's, and it was becoming quite tiresome.

As his eyes wandered over the letter a second time, the corners of his mouth twitched. He'd graded Granger's essays for years, and her handwriting, while neat, was never this uniform. He could see that she had taken great care in inking each letter. He set the letter on the desk and leaned back into his chair, his hand absently going to his neck. As his fingers grazed the bandages over his still-weeping wound, he wondered what the girl could possibly see in him. And for that matter, why did he care?

With a frustrated sigh he dropped his hand and pulled open the desk drawer, removing a folded sheet of newspaper. Over the last few days, he'd found himself lingering over the photos in the Prophet more than he'd like to admit. He'd expected the wizarding newspaper to have a huge spread on Potter's attempt to give him his Order of Merlin. He'd even suspected that word of Weasley's botched proposal attempt might've leaked out and been covered. The last thing he expected were these photos of him and Miss Granger.

He couldn't believe he had let his guard down enough to wear such sappy expressions on his face in front of a huge audience. What had he been thinking to look at the girl in such a manner? But there she was on the newspaper in his hand, receiving an Order of Merlin while he looked on with a _proud _expression on his face. Proud. He could vomit.

Equally distressing was the way she looked at him. He was truly shocked when he saw the photo in which she watched him leaving the podium with an admiring, almost smitten, expression. What could she possibly be looking at to cause such an emotion to play on her face? Yes, it looked like her eyes were fixed on him, but he just couldn't believe it. What about his posterior was the least bit worthy of her admiration?

But it was the photos that captured them locking eyes for that powerful moment that caused his neck wound to throb with his quickening pulse. He'd been overwhelmed in that moment, feeling somehow responsible for the deaths of those whose names were being spoken, just as he'd felt responsible for the deaths of the parents of the speaker himself. When it all became too much, his eyes were drawn in her direction, and when they were met and held willingly, he'd felt as though he were being freed from a heavy burden. He saw in her acceptance. She knew what he had done, what he had caused, and she accepted it.

"Professor Snape?" he heard a timid voice accompany a quiet knock. Severus opened his desk drawer and quickly stuffed both the letter and newspaper into it.

"Enter," he called as he slammed the drawer shut, annoyed at the interruption. The door creaked open and he crossed his arms when he saw who entered. "Potter."

"Please, call me Harry," he said, approaching the desk. When he hesitated, Severus nodded for him to sit down in the chair across the desk from him.

"I think not. Now, why are you here? To attempt to award me with another Order of Merlin?"

"Actually, I came to discuss Hermione," he said.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Severus said, leaning forward in his chair slightly. "As I'm sure she's told you, the rumors are false. Now, if that's all you needed, I believe you know the way out."

"Sir, that's not what I wanted to discuss. Or, perhaps it is. I'm really not sure," he said, his voice growing firmer despite Severus's quickly furrowing brow. "You see, after seeing those photos of you and her in The Daily Prophet, I realized that she might really feel something for you. I mean, she hasn't said anything about it to me, but I've only ever her seen give books the passionate look she was giving you."

Severus couldn't stop the scoff that escaped his lips.

"I suppose what I'm trying to say is, don't hurt her." He mumbled the last part quickly, but his damnable green eyes shone with defiant truth.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Severus asked, truly intrigued.

"Yes," Potter nodded.

"I'm not entirely sure I know what you mean by 'hurt her'," Severus said as he leaned back in his chair again, "but I assure you, once we work out the issue with our wands, I'll leave her alone."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he said, adding a belated "sir" into the thick silence. After a moment, Severus stood abruptly, making the legs of his chair scrape loudly along the floor.

"I'm not sure what you're playing at, but I believe it's time you leave," he said, pointing toward the door.

"But, sir, I-"

"I said leave, Potter. Now." The boy rose angrily from his chair and trudged to the door. He opened it but hesitated before exiting.

"I just want you to know, _sir_, that I don't like you. In fact, I think you're a down-right bastard, but I'm still going to testify on your behalf at the trial next week. I'm not going to let my feelings toward you stop me from doing what's _right_, and I hope you'll consider doing the same."

"Out," Severus hissed rhetorically as Potter slammed the door shut behind him.

For several minutes after Potter's exit, Severus simply stood completely still and allowed the words that were just spoken to him to sink into his thick skin. He suddenly felt rather nervous about the fast approaching meeting this evening. Shaking his head and clearing his mind, he set about collecting, organizing, and reviewing all the research he had done on wandlore to prepare for his appointment with Ollivander and Miss Granger.

* * *

A/N: A HUGE bouquet of magic petunias goes to wywrite for stepping in and betaing this chapter while coliemcnoly is on a much deserved vacation.

Up next, a wandlore-heavy chapter starring Hermione Granger, Severus Snape, and Mr. Ollivander.


	23. A Wanderful Dream

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

* * *

**Chapter 23**

**A Wand-erful Dream**

"_Incendio_." Severus stood at the front of his desk with his wand drawn and pointed at the intended target with an unwavering grip.

"_Incendio_." Without lowering his wand he took another step toward his desk held the wand's tip directly to the wick of an unlit candle that sat there.

"_Incendio!_" The word was a hiss of frustration. His brow creased in concentration as he repeated the incantation. Still, nothing happened.

With a defeated groan, he finally dropped his arm and began to pace in front of his desk, tapping his wand against his thigh with each step. He was tired of the situation with his wand and perhaps more tired of the dreams he'd been having. Each night since the ceremony, he'd been visited with a dream that he possessed Miss Granger's wand and she possessed his. Today he'd have to face the girl with this dream ingrained in his mind as vivid as a true memory. He was dreading it.

Every night while he slept, she'd come to him, looking so beautiful as she waved his blackthorn wand through the air around him. She'd soothe him and heal his pain. He'd watch in awe as she stopped to look up at him and say that she would save him. She'd smile and gently take his hand.

Every night, it would start to rain. The drops would pelt viciously around them, and her smile would falter, making his heart sink. He'd raise her vine wand and silently cast an Impervious Charm around them. As her smile returned, he'd give into temptation and brush his fingers along one of her damp, glowing cheeks. She'd stand as still as a statue, staring into his eyes until he'd finally lower his hand. Feeling rejected, he'd turn and walk away.

It would only be after he'd walked for a while that a hand would grasp his shoulder. Always, he'd reluctantly stop, and Miss Granger would step in front of him, tears leaking from her eyes, leaving a trail of ruin on her cheeks. He'd start to apologize, but she'd stop his words by leaning up and capturing his lips in hers. Every night, the salt of her tears would christen his tongue as he kissed them from her mouth and cheeks.

And each morning, he'd wake up after his hand came to rest on hers that held his blackthorn wand, while she curled her hand around his that held her vine wand.

It wasn't until he heard the quiet knock on the door that he realized he'd stopped pacing. He tucked his wand into the sleeve of his robe and strode to the door. He yanked it open and froze for the briefest of moments when he saw that it was Miss Granger, her arm still poised to knock. She gave him a timid smile, and he quickly narrowed his eyes and frowned, studiously ignoring the fact that her cheeks glowed. His neck wound began to throb as his blood pumped faster. He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.

"You're early," he said, his voice laced with the contempt he was trying to feel.

"I know. There was something I wanted to discuss with you regarding Professor McGonagall." He looked at her for a moment, reminding himself to look into her eyes and not at her lips.

"Ah, yes, _Headmistress_ McGonagall. She has been most unpleasant since those photos were published in the _Prophet_." He was the picture of calm.

She cleared her throat nervously and pulled a folded sheet of glossy paper from her pocket and held it out to him. He took it with a pointed glance and unfolded it. It appeared to be a page torn out of a magazine.

"Phyllis Phantasmal's Photography Opinion #110," Severus read out loud. When he noticed the words 'Witch Weekly' next to page number, he lowered it and glared her. "Who is Phyllis Phantasmal and why am I reading this?"

"Just read it and you'll see," she said.

He rolled his eyes and began to scan the article, his lips mouthing a word here and there as he worked his way down the text of the page. It was a wordy and boring piece on the ethical questions raised by the new art of wizarding photo manipulation. It cited the recent photos of Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. A photo of himself scowling was placed next to the recent photo of him from the Prophet. The caption pointed out the ways in which the Daily Prophet photo had been manipulated ("you can see his eyes have been softened" and "his nose seems smaller in photograph on the right"). When he finally reached the bottom of the article, he held the page out to Miss Granger.

"It's fake," he stated as she plucked it from his hand.

"How did you know?" she asked, looking rather annoyed. He turned away from her and walked casually to his desk, where he drummed his fingers lightly on its surface for a moment.

"Do you think those photos were manipulated?" Though he heard her shuffle her feet uncomfortably, he didn't wait for an answer. "I thought not. You also forget that I had the displeasure of enduring your essays for years, Miss Granger. Your writing style is unique in its excess - I'd recognize it anywhere." He walked around his desk, and when he faced her again, he was surprised to see that she seemed to be nodding in agreement.

"That's what Harry said," she mumbled, folding the page and stuffing it into her robes again. "I mean, he didn't say exactly that, but he did think Professor McGonagall might recognize it as my writing. He went through and edited it, but I suppose after all those years of…" Her voice trailed off and she began to look around the room as though she had completed the sentence.

"After years of what? Copying your homework? Yes, I suppose some of your writing mannerisms would be picked up by two certain…classmates." He regarded her for a moment before he moved to take a seat at his desk.

"So, how did you manage to get the Headmistress to believe this cheap sham of yours?" he asked, while gesturing for her to sit in the chair across from him. He raised an eyebrow as she chuckled.

"Well, I might have waited until she and Madam Pomfrey had a few celebratory firewhiskys until I brought it up," she said slyly as she took her chair.

"Celebratory? What were they celebrating?"

"Hiring someone to help Madam Pomfrey with her mountain of parchmentwork."

"Ah, so she found someone to help with that fire hazard in her office," he said, glad that he wouldn't have to help her with it. "Though I must say, that is rather slippery of you, Miss Granger, getting the Headmistress drunk to aide in making her believe a fabricated article." He couldn't help but to be slightly amused by her behavior. She shrugged.

"I can tell her that it's fake if you'd rather," she said. He shook his head.

"I think not. I'll be glad to have her off of my back," he couldn't help but concede.

He pressed his fingertips together as they sat in silence for a moment. Unsuccessfully avoiding thoughts of his dreams, he watched as Miss Granger stole curious glances at the books and journals to the side of the desk.

"I can see you want to ask a question, Miss Granger, so get on with it."

"Is this your research on wandlore?" she asked, nodding at the desk.

"It is," he said.

"Well, did you find anything new?"

"Not really, but have a look for yourself," he said, pushing the stacks her way. "I've read these books extensively, and you'll find that I've marked all the passages of interest. My notes are in the bound parchment." She looked at him suspiciously.

"Really?" she asked, pulling them closer to her.

"Yes, really. I suppose it would be beneficial for you to see my research before we meet with Mr. Ollivander. I'd start with these," he said, taking one of his notebooks and setting it in front of her. "My notes highlight the information most relative to our, ah, situation."

"Thank you, sir," she said, smiling gloriously at him. He swallowed hard and felt his Adam's apple bobble tellingly over the bandage covering part of his neck. He cleared his throat gently and stood up from his chair.

"Yes, well, I have business to which I must attend. Since you were so early, there are yet a few hours before our meeting, which we'll be conducting in the staff room for the comfort of Mr. Ollivander. My office is hardly accommodating."

She looked around and nodded in agreement until she saw that he was now glaring at her. He held her eyes for a moment before turning away and walking to the door. He almost expected to feel a hand on his shoulder to stop him as in his dream.

"If you would please meet and escort our guest when he arrives, I'll wait for you in the staff room," he said stiffly. He had his hand on the door handle before he stopped and turned toward Miss Granger. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and bright, and he had to fight to keep his features contained to their gloomy frown.

"Anything else, Professor Snape?" she asked, her voice small on the stone walls and jar-lined shelves.

"No," he said as he pulled the door open. With one foot out the door, he remembered that she had thanked him, so he quietly muttered, "And, you're always welcome, Miss Granger."

He began to walk down the corridor, shaking his head and wondering what had possessed him to acknowledge her thanks, or perhaps worse, say 'always welcome'. Though he hoped she hadn't heard him, he felt oddly exhilarated at the thought that she probably had. He didn't really have any business that needed attending, so he decided to seek out Poppy to find out more about who would be helping her.

Severus paced around one of the armchairs in the staff room, each footfall an agitated stomp on the worn carpet. He'd been met with a surprise upon locating Poppy in the Headmistress's office, where she and Minerva were slouched in chairs around the desk with two glasses and a half-empty bottle of Ogden's. After a few giggling toasts in his honor (one to his enduring bravery and another to the survival of the wizarding world's largest nose), they told him who it was they hired to work with Poppy over the remainder of the summer.

Hermione Granger. He was more than slightly annoyed with her for not mentioning it earlier.

He felt his heart skip a beat as the door creaked open and Miss Granger stepped through with Mr. Ollivander on her arm. Severus felt an unexpected pang of guilt the moment his eyes fell on the older man's face and remembered the twisted expressions of fear and deep pain he'd seen it hold. He stepped up to them and after a slight hesitation, he held out his hand in greeting. Without hesitation, Ollivander took it and shook it with a firm grip that surprised Severus.

"Mr. Ollivander, thank you for taking time to meet with us here," he said, releasing the other man's hand and gesturing for him to sit in one of the armchairs sitting around a table in the middle of the room.

"It's my pleasure, young man," he said as he took his seat in the armchair. "Miss Granger was quite successful in capturing my attention with only a few details of the wand troubles you've been having."

"Miss Granger," Severus said in acknowledgment as he gestured for her to have a seat as well. She blushed furiously at his words, and with some anxiety, he knew she had heard his 'always welcome' comment earlier. To make matters worse, his mind betrayed him with an image of his hand brushing across the flushed skin of cheek. Feeling his own cheeks warm slightly, he looked back to Mr. Ollivander and saw that he had watched this small exchange with some interest. Severus bit back a scathing remark, and instead seated himself and offered tea.

"Yes, please," Ollivander accepted. "Two sugars, no milk."

Miss Granger shook her head when he offered her tea, so he prepared Ollivander's and handed it to him. They sat in silence as Ollivander sipped his from his cup, and Severus felt pointedly uncomfortable as his moon eyes seemed to flicker with calculation as they moved between him and Miss Granger. Ollivander finally placed his tea cup and saucer on the table and leaned back in his chair.

"Blackthorn, dragon heart string, fourteen inches, versatile. The perfect wand for a powerful wizard of great intelligence and countless talents. Yet, it is also perfect for a wizard with a destiny to be put to innumerable tasks and challenges to serve those that control him."

Severus held perfectly still as Ollivander spoke, his eyes fixed on the teapot. He heard Miss Granger stir uncomfortably in her chair, but ignored it. He knew these words as those that Ollivander spoke to him before his wand chose him. He remembered vividly that his young hands shook with excitement as he reached to take the wand that Ollivander offered to him. 'Powerful' had been the only word that registered in his inexperienced mind as he gripped the smooth wood in his fist and felt wand take to him. His heart brimmed with emotion as he remembered his elation at being chosen by such a wand.

"May I see it?" Ollivander asked gently. Severus's eyes snapped up to meet his, and he extracted his wand from his robes and held it out to him. Ollivander took it and examined it tenderly, trying a few spells before handing it back. "You've taken very good care of your wand. I can see that it is dear to you." Severus nodded silently.

Both men started when they heard a strangled cry emit from Miss Granger. Severus looked over to find that she held her face in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees. Her shoulders were shaking violently as she sobbed. The men exchanged a glance before Severus stood and walked over to her.

Instinctively, he reached to place a soothing hand on her shoulder, but froze, and awkwardly dropped it back to his side.

"Miss Granger," he said softly. When her only response was to increase the volume of her sobs, he spoke a little louder. "Miss Granger, really." She shook her head and mumbled something incoherent into her hands. Severus looked pleadingly at Ollivander, who stood and conjured a large tissue and handed it to Severus. He reluctantly held it out to the girl and cleared his throat.

"Miss Granger, a tissue. Hermione, I'm offering you a tissue. Take it," he said, his voice firm in growing annoyance. She raised her head and looked at the tissue he dangled in front of her face and took it while meeting his eyes.

In his dream, he'd kissed away her tears. He tore his eyes away from her took his seat again, grateful when he heard her taking deep, calming breaths.

"I-I'm sorry," she blubbered. "I'm so sorry." Severus sighed.

"And why are you '_so sorry'_?"

"I stole your wand's allegiance, and…and…"

"Ah, so you admit you stole it from me," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "Please, enlighten us as to how you to managed that little feat."

"Well, I didn't mean…"

"If you didn't mean to do it, then you didn't steal it. It was an accident, Miss Granger," he said, unsure as to why he felt obligated to calm the girl. "Though I know you've stolen from me in the past-"

"But we needed-" Severus glared at her and held up a hand to quiet her. She closed her mouth and looked to the floor.

"As I was saying, though you've stolen from me in the past, I'm inclined to believe you when you say you didn't intend for my wand to take to you the way it did. Just as you don't blame me. If anything, I blame my wand. It abandoned me."

"Ah, interesting," Ollivander said. Severus had almost forgotten the old man sat there. "Why do you think your wand abandoned you?"

"Perhaps its connection to me weakened because I was dying," he said darkly.

"Yes, and when Miss Granger here picked it up…"

"It sensed life in me, so its allegiance went to me," she ventured, her eyes still wet.

"Precisely," Ollivander said. "When a wizard dies, the connection to his wand is severed, and the wand becomes available to forge a connection with a different wizard or witch."

"But it seemed to choose me when I picked it up. It was like holding my wand for the first time, only…more powerful," she said.

"Don't forget, a wand doesn't simply connect with the one who picks it up, it must choose you. You must be in possession of qualities compatible to this wand. If another had picked it up, it's likely this wouldn't have happened. The sensation probably seemed stronger due to your matured magic, though it is not a common thing for one to connect with a wand in such a manner after childhood."

"I survived though," Severus said. "Why doesn't it reconnect to me?"

"It had already chosen a new mistress," Ollivander said sadly.

"And my wand, sir? It seemed to choose Professor Snape just as his chose me," she asked.

"It is the same with your wand as it is with his, though the connection to your wand was likely weakened by your new, probably stronger, connection to the blackthorn wand," Ollivander said. "However, your wands switching allegiances, while unusual, is not what intrigues me. It is your complete inability to channel your magic through your respective former wands. Performing clumsy magic with another's wand is completely normal, but to have a wand block you completely is something rare indeed."

"There's more, sir," Miss Granger mumbled, twisting the tissue in her hands.

"More?" Ollivander said, sitting straighter and moving to the edge of his seat.

* * *

A/N: Oh dear, it's been too long, hasn't it? I really am sorry. RL has been hectic, leaving me rather brain-dead. My muse also decided to be difficult and this chapter took a while due to a few re-writes.

Thanks to coliemcnoly for being so patient and beta-ing this chapter more than once. Thanks to wywrite for being so supportive by motivating me with great suggestions. Ladies, this shot of Ogden's is for you!


	24. Pares Animi

_Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, HP does not belong to me, no matter how I wish it could be._

* * *

**Chapter 24**

**Pares Animi**

"_More?" Ollivander said, sitting straighter and moving to the edge of his seat. _

Hermione nodded and glanced toward Professor Snape to see if he had any objection to her continuing. He gave her a small nod and she swallowed, taking that as her cue to continue.

"You see," she began carefully, "when I returned his wand to him, it seemed to channel a thought-"

"Memory, Miss Granger," Snape interrupted. "It was a memory."

"Memory. Right then, his wand channelled a memory of his to me," she said.

"What do you mean by 'channelled'?" Mr. Ollivander asked, rubbing his chin.

"I mean that I saw it clearly, as though it were my own memory. It was overwhelming, I could feel everything, like I was reliving the experience as him."

"It was similar for me in this instance. It was as though the memory was ripped from my mind and played in front of my eyes," Snape said.

"You say, 'this instance'. You mean to tell me that this has happened more than once?" Ollivander scoffed, his face skeptical.

"Yes." His voice was injected with thinly veiled annoyance. "You see, I didn't recall this particular memory until Miss Granger handed me my wand, so its clarity was rather…startling. "

"And that memory was?"

"Private," Hermione said firmly, assuming Snape probably didn't want to share it.

"I see," Ollivander said, frowning at her.

"I don't mind sharing, Miss Granger. Unless, you mind?" Hermione snapped her head in Snape's direction, surprised and slightly irritated by his response.

"Not at all, but I thought you might," she said, glaring at his raised eyebrow.

"Not at all. You see, Mr. Ollivander, this memory was of Miss Granger finding me after my, ah, accident." Snape's tone was steady and calm, and his eyes stayed on Hermione's. She felt her pulse quicken, but she held his gaze, unable to look away. "I was in so much pain, and I opened my eyes to see her looking down at me, and in my delirium she glowed with beauty, intelligence…youth." His eyes dropped to the floor at this point, and Hermione swallowed thickly, her throat feeling suddenly very dry.

"And then," he continued, "she grasped my hand, and the pain all but disappeared. I felt soothed, safe, and at that point, though I have no doubt that I was on the cusp of death, I decided I did not want to die. That was the memory the wand chose to show her."

"Is that what you saw, Miss Granger? Is that what you felt?" Ollivander asked, his eyes seemed more watery than usual.

"Yes, it's what I saw, but I didn't feel any pain. The moment he touched the wand I felt a sort of comforting warmth envelope my body, like a blanket I suppose. I saw myself as he must've seen me. It all became too much, and I forced myself to let go," she said, her voice shaking. "But the moment my hand left his wand, it felt like I had suffered a loss. I was lonely, severed - almost incomplete, like a part of me was gone."

"Did you feel the same, Severus?" Ollivander asked gently. Hermione looked up to find him looking at her, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. He nodded slowly.

"Interesting…" Ollivander whispered. "The other memories you shared. Tell me about those."

"The second memory was Miss Granger's and channelled through her wand," Snape said. Ollivander stood and began to pace in front of his chair.

"Through _her_ wand. So not only has this happened more than once, but also through more than one wand. Amazing," he breathed. He stopped suddenly and looked toward Hermione, his silver eyes gleamed like ice. "What was this memory?"

"Well, it was after Professor Snape, er, checked out of St. Mungo's and returned to Hogwarts. We apparated, and it must've been too much, because he lost consciousness. Professor McGonagall had to conjure a stretcher to take him back to the castle. The memory was…" Hermione trailed off, realizing she'd have to admit that she was admiring him while he slept.

"Would you like me to say it for you?" Snape asked. The anxious edge in his voice wasn't lost on Hermione, and she sensed he wanted to hear her say it.

"No," Hermione said firmly. "The memory was of me looking at Professor Snape as we walked back to the castle. He seemed so…peaceful."

"And you saw the same, Severus?"

"I did. I have never seen myself as handsome, so when these images played in my mind, I knew I must be seeing it from her perspective," he said.

"Just as I've never seen myself as beautiful, like I was in your memory," she countered, her voice slightly shrill.

"Indeed," Snape muttered.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment, the only sound was Ollivander's shuffling feet as he continued to pace. Hermione sat, still twisting and pulling the tissue in her hand, concentrating on the texture of the cloth against her palms and fighting the urge to look toward Professor Snape.

"I must see this," Ollivander finally spoke. Though Hermione had been expecting he might make such a request, she couldn't help the panic that began to constrict her throat.

"No," Snape said, as though reading her mind. "Most certainly not." Hermione looked up to see Ollivander looking at him with almost desperation.

"It's the only way to confirm it. I must see you exchange wands."

"No," Hermione quickly seconded. The last thing she needed was for Snape to get a glimpse of the dream she'd been having lately.

"Do you know what is causing this?" Snape asked, sounding hopeful. "You said it was the only way to confirm it. What are you confirming?"

"_Pares Animi_," he whispered, his words lingering in the air like dust. "It's a sort of myth you come across every once in a while in wandlore. I never dreamed it might be true, but now, I'm not sure. Gregorovitch used to claim to have seen this phenomenon, but of course I never believed him. He once started a rumour that he possessed the Elder Wand!"

"But he did possess it!" Hermione couldn't help but exclaim. "Or, I mean, he had it at, um, some point," she added, embarrassed.

Ollivander suddenly looked very pale and sank into his chair, reaching for his empty cup of tea with shaking hands. When he saw that it was empty, he placed it back on the table with a clatter.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, concerned. She hadn't meant to upset him. He waved a dismissive hand in her direction.

"Yes, yes. Some things just set me off."

Snape had already stood and refilled his tea cup, and was now pushing it into his trembling hands. She was amazed at how one second the old man could seem so determined, almost frightening, and then the next, so frail and small.

"Please, do not apologize," Snape said quietly. "I know the Dark Lord questioned you extensively about the Deathstick."

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean-"

"-I know you didn't mean a thing, Miss Granger. I'm fine." Ollivander gave her a weak smile and sat a little straighter. "Now, where were we?"

"Pares Animi," Snape said, sitting in his chair again.

"Ah, yes," he said, taking a sip of tea, his grip more stable. "Pares Animi, meaning a common soul, or a kindred spirit, if you will. Severus, you are aware that Harry Potter's wand had the same core as the Dark Lord's?" Snape nodded. "Odd things happened when their wands met; things I couldn't explain."

"Are you saying my wand's core is twin to Miss Granger's?"

"No, not quite. While the composition of your wands do hold similar elemental traits, I believe that the true similarity lies not within your wands, but in your magic itself," Ollivander said, placing his tea on the table and taking his own wand from his robes and holding out in front of him.

"What is magic?" he asked, flicking his wand and causing silver and gold sparks to shower from its tip. "Countless lifetimes of men and wizards have been spent trying to find the answer to this seemingly simple question. While there is endless debate on the issue, there are two beliefs that are more popular than the rest. One belief is that it is a power drawn from the elements, while the other belief is that magic is an extension of the soul itself."

"What do you believe?" Hermione asked, feeling a deep exhilaration at exploring a topic she had often pondered herself, being a Muggle-born. Still studying the wand in his hand, his lips curved into a small smile and his eyes seemed to glitter.

"I have a tendency to believe it's a combination of the two - that one's soul determines whether they possess magical ability, and that the elements determine how the magic is yielded. This elemental power is awakened when matched with the proper magic, or, as some believe, the proper soul. The old adage, 'the wand chooses the wizard' is a perfect example of this. If your magic isn't compatible with the elements of a wand, it won't 'choose' you."

He paused for a moment and held his wand out to Hermione, handle first. It was a wand more intricate than any she had ever seen, and she felt compelled to give it a closer look. She reached across and took the wand from him. The wood was a warm red, and the handle was carved into a diamond pattern with silver inlay. The surface of the wand was smooth and polished to the perfect shine.

"Your wand is beautiful," she gasped.

"Redwood, unicorn hair, fifteen inches, flawless. It is very beautiful, but I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Miss Granger. That's not really my wand**;** this is," He smiled at her look of confusion as he drew another wand from his robes. It was smaller and much simpler. "Beech, phoenix core, nine inches precisely. Yes, this simple thing was the one to choose me." He sighed.

"What does this have to do with Pares Animi?" Snape asked. Hermione looked over and saw that he sat with his arms crossed, clearly ready for some answers.

"I'm getting to it, I promise. In fact, I think that the answer to your question lies within that wand," he said with a smile. Hermione frowned and continued to inspect it.

"Does this wand hold some sort of unique elemental power?" she asked. She glanced at Snape and saw that he was now looking at the wand curiously.

"Perhaps. Would you be so kind as to let Mr. Snape have a look at it?"

"Of course," she said, standing from her chair and holding the wand out to him. With a frustrated sigh, he reached for it, and the moment his fingers touched the wood, she was enveloped in warmth.

And she was kissing him.

Her surroundings became a dense fog as the image played helplessly in her mind. She seemed frozen, unable to release the wand from her grip as their lips danced with fervour. She cradled the back of his head and wrapped her fingers in his damp hair to pull him closer. When his fingers gently gripped her back, she smiled against his mouth and felt his nose brush against her cheek.

And then, as suddenly as it began, the connection was broken, leaving her breathless. The wand clanked as it hit the stone floor, and she sank to the ground next to it, covering her face with her hands. It was the realization that he was seeing everything as well that finally gave her strength to rip her hand away from the wood. The sense of loss she felt after this connection was stronger than ever before.

"I'm sorry," she heard Snape rasp.

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. It was my dream," she said through her fingers, fighting the urge to flee from the room. Deciding there was nothing better for it, she dropped her hands and looked directly at him. His face spelled utter confusion. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "I mean, it's not all about kissing. It's also about your wand, actually."

"Pares Animi!" Ollivander exclaimed, his voice breathless. "I don't believe it."

Hermione barely heard him as Snape stood and held his hand out to help her stand from the floor. After a slight hesitation, she took it, and used it to lift herself from the ground. She began to pull away, but he held her hand in a firm grip. Confused, she looked up at him.

"Does it rain you your dream?" he asked. She nodded. "And do I walk away from you?"

She frowned, but nodded again. His brow creased and he dropped her hand. He seemed about to say something, but instead he sighed and turned to return to his chair. Before he could sit, she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and he froze under her fingertips.

"Why?" she whispered, dropping her hand from his shoulder. She held her breath as he turned to face her.

"Because I've been having the same dream."

"Pares Animi," Ollivander said again. Hermione turned to face him, suddenly remembering he was there.

"You tricked us," Hermione said, glaring at him. "You wanted me to hand him that wand to see if we connected through it! There wasn't anything special about it, was there?"

"Not special? It's the most expensive wand in my shop, so it's very special," he said defensively, walking over and snatching it from the floor. "But yes, I suppose I did trick you. Well worth it, I might add. I now have the confirmation I needed. You connected through a wand that neither of you had held before. If you were to exchange this wand," he waggled his plain beech wand in front of him, "it would have the same results."

"And why does our exchanging wands have this result?" Hermione asked, feeling slightly frustrated.

"Pares Animi," Ollivander said, sitting in his chair with a pleased expression.

"Yes, yes. You've made that quite clear," Snape muttered, his patience obviously wearing quite thin.

"What you haven't made clear is the 'Pares Animi' rubbish," Hermione added waspishly.

"Right, right. Well, simply put, I believe that the magic that runs through your veins," he pointed at Hermione, "is the same magic that runs through his. Your magic, or as many believe, your souls, are a pair. A perfect match. Equals in every way. Of course, Miss Granger's magic didn't realize this until she picked up your wand, Severus."

Hermione frowned.

"You see," Ollivander continued, "after you use a wand, your magic leaves a sort of signature, a residue if you will - it's what makes Prior Incantato possible. When she picked up your wand, the residue of you magic met hers, and immediately, there was a reaction. Your wand's weakening connection to you made its connection to her all the more powerful. Had you not been near death, it's possible that her bond to your wand might not have been strong enough to connect her to your magic's signature. So not only did your wand's allegience go to her, but her magic also met its match. In other words, her soul found a kindred spirit. It's likely she immediately felt a strong attachment to the wand. Am I correct Miss Granger?"

She looked at Snape and nodded slightly in confirmation.

"When you exchanged wands for the first time, your souls were finally able to connect through the wand. What you saw was likely what was at the forefront of one of your minds. You both expressed feeling severed after ending the connection through the wand. You were likely feeling the loss of your kindred spirit."

"What does this mean for Professor Snape and I? Will I always feel this...wretched?" Hermione asked in a shaky voice. "When I'm awake, all I can think of is him and his wand. When I sleep, I dream the same."

"Now that your soul has found its match, it's possible you will never feel whole without him, and he without you." Ollivander's eyes seemed to burn hungrily into Hermione's. "You must understand, through this connection, you can yield strength in magic beyond your wildest dreams. The binding of your magic, _your souls_, is a small price to pay for this magnificent power. I can help you accomplish this."

"No power," Snape growled suddenly, "no matter how great, is worth my soul. And certainly not Miss Granger's." He stood and held his hand out to Hermione and when she didn't immediately take it, he grabbed her hand and pulled her from her chair.

"I do thank you for your insight Mr. Ollivander, but I believe it is time you left. I must escort Miss Granger to the headmistress's office."

Without another word, he led Hermione from the staff room, slamming the door much harder than was necessary. Stunned, she allowed him to pull her by the hand down the corridor for a moment, before she stopped and yanked it from his.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice raised. "That was incredibly rude!"

"Did you not see that look in his eyes, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, but-"

"I know that look all too well. While I know he is a good man at heart, I also know he is a man who is weakened by a hunger for power." He turned and took a step toward her. "He craves it, Miss Granger. It's like an addiction. He can't resist it." He stood less than an arm's length from her, and she seemed unable to take a step back.

"How do you know?" she whispered. He leaned in slightly, and she couldn't help but to do the same.

"I was like him once, obsessed with power. Like a seductress, it ensnared me, and once I tasted it, I wanted more…" He let his voice trail off as he leaned down, she could almost feel his breath on her face.

"And?" She was amazed she could speak.

"And the hunger for it overpowered my heart, my mind, my soul. It ruined my life." He turned on heel and began to walk away briskly, leaving Hermione spluttering. "Are you going to stand there all night?" he called.

"But, but," she stuttered, as she jogged to catch up. "Where are we going?"

"I'm going to let you use the Floo from my office. I'm assuming the headmistress arranged to leave the connection open to your home?"

"But didn't she tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I'm helping Madam Pomfrey with her paperwork. I'll be staying here." He looked over at her and glared.

"She mentioned it. Why would you volunteer to do such a thing?"

"Well, you see, my parents miss Australia, and with Death Eaters still on the loose and out for the Triumphant Trio's blood, we all decided that it would be safest for them to quietly return to Australia, and for me to stay at Grimmauld Place with Harry. It would be safer and require fewer aurors. When the Headmistress made me the offer, it opened up a second option of my staying at Hogwarts. Of course I chose the second option right away. No offence to Harry, but after our extended camping trip, I was rather keen on spending some time alone, getting reacquainted with the library." She took a deep breath after her speech and looked over at Snape. He was regarding her with some amusement.

"You practiced that, didn't you?" She immediately felt her cheeks burn.

"Erm, perhaps a little, in my head that is, not in front of a mirror or anything."

"It sounded as though you recited it from a book." He shook his head. "Do you start tomorrow?"

"No, the Headmistress is making Madam Pomfrey take a few days away. I start when she returns."

"Good. I want to know everything about Pares Animi. I don't think Ollivander told us everything," he said, his face etched with determination. "We have research to do."

* * *

A/N: Pares Animi is Latin. Pares means equal, like, a match. Animi means soul, but is also sometimes translated as mind. Put together, it can be translated to mean 'kindred spirit'.

I'm not even going get into excuses for my long absence. The words just weren't coming to me and I was severely stuck. I am sorry for that.

I owe a very large bucket of thanks to wywrite, who not only gave me Pares Animi, but also drew a scene from chapter 9! You can see it at my livejournal page (the link is in my bio page). I also managed to imperio her into giving the chapter a read-through. This chapter would not have happened without her inspiration and help.

Another bucket of thanks is owed to coliemcnoly for being the most patient and kind beta in the world. You wrock.


	25. Honeysuckle Torture

_Disclaimer: Take a hundred and divide it by four and you'll come up with twenty five ways in which I do not own Harry Potter and its characters. It's still just a bit of not for profit silliness._

* * *

**Chapter 25**

**Honeysuckle Torture**

"Are you all right, Severus?"

"Hardly," he snorted. "Have you not listened to a word I've said?" He sat slumped in a chair in front of Dumbledore's portrait, feeling drained after relaying to him the meeting with Ollivander and all he learned of Pares Animi.

"It could be worse. And your neck? Is it mending well?"

"I suppose so." He sighed and absently ran his fingers over the bandages. "I can't help but to think Nagini should have succeeded in killing me."

"That you sit in front of me with a beating heart tells me you were meant to survive," Dumbledore said, his voice laced with compassion.

"I feel broken. I think a part of me did die that night," he whispered.

"I disagree. No part of you has died, it simply yearns."

"Yes, it _simply yearns_ for something I do not want and cannot have!"

"She yearns the same as you."

"She's so young, it isn't fair she should yearn for this," he hissed, motioning toward himself. Dumbledore nodded in understanding.

"She is young and I won't say it's fair, but to find your true kindred spirit, your soul mate, is a rare gift that should be cherished, not pushed away. You're only torturing yourself."

"Torture? I close my eyes and she's there, waiting for me in the darkness. I open my eyes and she hangs like a phantom over my every thought. I hold my wand and pretend that it's vine, as hers. I sit in chairs, in _this _chair, and take pleasure in the thought that perhaps she sat here once. It's sick and pathetic. It's obsession. And yes, it's torture."

"I think it best you exchange wands. It's not a permanent solution, but it might help to lessen the effects of Pares Animi while you search for answers."

"I'm beginning to think that I have no other choice. This obsession, this sense of loss, grows worse with each passing minute." Severus pulled his wand from his robes and studied it for a moment. "The idea of relinquishing my wand to that girl does not appeal to me."

"Ah, but do not forget, in return you'll receive the wand that haunts your dreams." Severus didn't reply as he stood up from his chair to pace in front of the fireplace. "Do you know what you'll do about Ollivander?" Dumbledore asked, the portrait removing his glasses and cleaning them with the sleeve of his robes.

"Yes," Severus replied. "He is weak, and I feel he craves power nearly as much as he fears it, yet I'm inclined to believe he is not a threat to us. While I hold little trust for the old man, I'm afraid he is the only one in possession of the answers we seek. After the charade of my Wizengamot hearing has passed and I can leave the grounds, I shall meet with him again, without Miss Granger."

"I've known Ollivander for many, many years. He's a good man, but I believe you are correct in thinking that power is a terrible temptation for him." Severus stopped pacing to look at the portrait as it spoke. "If you were anyone else Severus, I'd say a word of caution, but I think you understand his temptation on an intimate level. You know how best to deal with it. While I agree he is not a threat, he should be watched nonetheless."

* * *

Severus had slept little the night before, looking toward an afternoon in the library with Miss Granger with a foreboding sense of dread. He had anticipated researching wandlore with her to be awkward and uncomfortable, certainly not entertaining and, dare he say, fun. So it was with some surprise he found himself barely repressing a smirk as she dropped yet another pile of books reaching her chin onto the table in front of him with a huff.

"My my, Miss Granger, at this rate, you'll have pulled every book from its shelf by sundown." She rolled her eyes and sank into a rickety chair across the table.

"I plan to leave no book unturned until we find answers," she said, slightly breathless with exertion. She stretched her arms and glared at him - he was openly smirking at her now. "You could've helped me carry those, you know."

"And risk further injury to my neck? I think not." He regarded her bristling frustration with amusement for a moment before bringing a more serious tone to his voice. "Where is Lestrange's wand?"

"Not here," she ground out.

"Ah, so you still have it."

"Yes," she said, straightening in her chair and slamming a book down in front of her. "If you must know, I had every intention of breaking it, but..." she trailed off with a grumpy shrug.

"But what?"

"But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I tried. I'm sure Neville will be glad to do it anyway." She began flipping through the pages of the book with ferocity. "Did you find anything while I was at the shelves?"

"No. As I've continuously reminded you, I've researched this library extensively. I doubt we'll find anything new. This is rather pointless."

"It's the best we have for the moment. Besides, it never hurts to have a second set of eyes."

"Are you questioning my ability to research?" he asked.

"No, I'm questioning your ability to leave the castle to get different books without a flock of Aurors descending on you like moths to a flame," she bit out rather viciously. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, but before he could reply she raised her arms. "Wait, wait. I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I'm no more able to leave than you at the moment." She sighed. "I haven't been sleeping well. I'm afraid I haven't been in the best of moods."

"Obviously," he grumbled as he lifted a large tome from the top of a stack of books, his anger dissipating as he read the title. He raised an eyebrow and tapped a finger on cover's tarnished gold lettering. "_The Art of Revenge_, Miss Granger? What does this have to do with wandlore?"

"Oh, that." She cleared her throat and leaned across the table toward Severus. "Well," she said in a low voice, "I thought this might be a convenient time to discuss another problem we have on our hands."

"Ah yes, Skeeter," Severus said, his teeth clenching on reflex. "Yes, we do owe her our…thanks."

"Thanks? Yes, something like that," she said, her smile almost devious. "She's an unregistered Animagus."

"And what's her form? A cockroach?" he snorted.

"Close," she absently flipped through a few more pages of the book in front of her, "she's a beetle."

"You can't be serious."

"But I am." She studied him for a moment. "I'm going to tell you something, and I do hope your sense of revenge is far stronger than any obligation you might feel toward being an upstanding, law-abiding wizard."

"Excuse me?" he asked, not quite sure if, as a former Death Eater turned professor, he should concerned, offended, or both.

"You see," she said quietly, glancing around the library and leaning in further over the table, "I sort of imprisoned her for a short time after the Triwizard Tournament." Severus' eyebrows shot up.

"How?"

"I'd had suspicions about the source of her information after reading her articles, so when I saw a rather conspicuous eavesdropping beetle in the hospital wing, I acted on impulse. I kept her in a jar I'd charmed to be unbreakable. It was the night of the final task." She swallowed at the memory, and Severus blinked in recollection - that was the night of the Dark Lord's return. "I wasn't sure how long she'd been listening, so I felt somewhat justified imprisoning her. Had any of the information that was discussed been heard by the wrong person, it would've been disastrous."

"Very," Severus agreed. His role as a spy would've been compromised, and if memory served correct, the dog Black had also been present, as both human and canine. If Rita had gotten away with any such information, the war may have been lost before it started, and Severus's life likely forfeit. He stared at Miss Granger in shock.

"I'm still not sure how much she might have heard, but I didn't want to risk anything," she continued, blushing under his intense gaze. "During her, um, _stay_ in the jar, I made up some crazy rubbish that I had already reported her to Dumbledore, and that he was furious to hear of her deception. I told her that if a word of what was discussed in the hospital wing were made public, Dumbledore threatened a punishment so severe, she'd beg for the Dementors of Azkaban. I also told her we'd report her status as an unregistered Animagus to the Ministry if she didn't clean up her reporting ways in general."

Severus found himself at a loss for words. He watched, mesmerised as she cast her eyes down, her cheeks burning red. He wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and trail his fingertips across her flushed skin. She cleared her throat and began to nervously flick through the pages of her book, not meeting his eyes for a moment. When she looked up again, she held his gaze with eyes that spoke of the raw hunger he felt, confirming in his mind they were both indeed yearning.

"Well, are you going to turn me in?" she asked after a moment, a small smile tugging her lips. He blinked and it took a moment before he realized she had been asking him a question. He cleared his throat and shook his head.

"I must say, I am surprised by your actions," he said, drumming his fingertips on the table.

"I let her go, didn't I?" He detected a slight note of panic in her voice.

"Hmm, yes, I suppose you did." He looked at her, reveling in her growing agitation for a moment before finally speaking. "You are devious. Absolutely devious."

"Thank you," she said with a smug smile.

"That you take that as a compliment speaks volumes of your personality," he muttered, opening _The Art of Revenge_. "Why do I have a strong suspicion this book is unnecessary? You already have our revenge plotted, do you not?" He didn't look up from the book but took her silence as affirmation. "I thought as much. Out with it." He closed it and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"Well, with your hearing approaching, I thought it'd be best to take an innocent revenge that neither of us, especially you, can be implicated in criminally. So, no extortion, kidnapping, or blackmailing this time." She sounded almost disappointed.

"I agree," Seveus nodded. "Your previous actions were justified by a grave situation. While the idea of having that woman trapped in a jar is rather appealing, I do not think damaging our reputations could warrant such a revenge."

"Precisely," Hermione said, her eyes glittering. "That's why I propose _an_ _eye for an eye_, so to speak. In exchange for tarnishing our reputations, we'll tarnish hers."

"And how do you purpose we do such a thing?" Severus asked, curious to hear her plan.

"Well," she said, her eyes seeming to glaze over in thought, "I'm not sure you'll like it, and it certainly won't be easy…"

"Miss Granger, surely by now you realize '_easy_' is not a word in my vocabulary."

* * *

The moon was high in the night sky by the time they left the library, energetic in conspiratorial excitement despite their empty stomachs. Hermione bid farewell to Severus as they reached a corridor leading to the Gryffindor tower, but upon hearing her stomach rumble rather impressively, he insisted that she eat before settling in for the evening.

"I am hungry," she admitted, turning to walk by his side again.

"Obviously," he mumbled, relishing the feel of her glare boring into the side of his skull. They walked in silence to his office, the air growing cooler as they descended into the dungeons. He took a deep breath through his nose, letting the damp air fill his lungs to capacity. He glanced over to see Hermione studying him in amazement.

"You really do prefer the dungeons, don't you?" she asked.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I do," he answered, taking another deep breath.

"But…why?" She sounded truly dumbfounded.

He thought for a moment and answered, "They're consistent."

"Consistent?" she snickered.

"Yes," he said shortly, opening the door to his office and stepping in. She followed and he wordlessly gestured that she take a chair in front of his desk. He didn't miss the martyred expression she wore as she sat on the hard wood. Severus snapped his fingers and a house-elf popped in, startling Hermione.

"We are in need of nourishment. Anything of sustenance is fine, if you are agreeable, Miss Granger?" She nodded at the house-elf, who nodded back, preparing to disapparate. "Oh, and could you send a more _pleasant_ chair with the meal?" he asked, gesturing toward Hermione. The house-elf glanced at the chair and nodded firmly.

Their food and a well-worn, cushy armchair arrived less than a minute later. Hermione seemed all too happy to abandon her current seat and settled into the chair smiling warmly at Severus. They ate in silence, the atmosphere slightly awkward as they cleaned their plates. Hermione was yawning by the time the house-elf returned to clear their dishes.

"Shall I escort you back to your dormitory?" he asked in a rare attempt to be polite. She gave him an odd look and shook her head.

"No, I'll be fine." She stood up from her chair, hesitating for a moment. "Sleep well, Professor Snape." He nodded and watched as she headed toward the door. Each step she took away from him seemed to tug at his chest almost painfully.

"Wait," he said, just as she began to pull the door open. "There's something else we need to discuss. I thought it could wait, but I was mistaken."

"Okay," she said, walking back toward her chair with a slightly puzzled expression.

"Do you have your wand?" he asked as she sat down again.

"Yes." She pulled it from her robes and held it up. He nodded and retrieved his own wand, watching as she looked at it with wistful eyes.

"After much consideration, I've decided that we have little choice but to exchange wands, temporarily."

"Really?" she asked, blinking in surprise.

"Yes, _temporarily_," he said, emphasising the word. "You cannot say you do not want it." She shook her head.

"But I can," she whispered. "I don't _want_ it, I _crave_ it. I dream of it," she looked from his wand to meet his eyes, and they shared a moment mutual longing, "and its owner." He swallowed and looked away.

"I hope that by exchanging wands, this…hunger we feel, _our souls_ feel, will be sated, though I am not sure for how long," he said. "I do not believe we can continue on willpower alone." He sighed and pulled a hand through his hair.

"I feel as though a part of me is gone," Hermione said. "It's dreadful."

"If what Ollivander told us holds true, our wands contain at least a signature of our magic. Let us hope this will be enough to help alleviate the effects of Pares Animi, until we find some answers."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm not sure how much longer I could stand feeling so…empty. " She took a shaky breath and gave him a tentative smile. "So, how shall we do this? Put them on the desk?"

"No. I think it best we hand them to each other, at the same time." He studied her for a moment, trying to gage her reaction. She seemed contemplative, her eyes unfocused as she nodded slowly.

"Brilliant. It would be like completing a circuit," she said, looking at the vine wand in her hand thoughtfully. "We've only connected through one wand, and it's been a sort of one-way connection. Through two, the connection would be complete. But, will it be dangerous?"

"I can't be sure," Severus admitted. "I've discussed it with Dumbledore, and we both think by exchanging the wands in such a manner, the relief we seek might be greater and last longer." He paused and smirked slightly. "Besides, you must be a bit curious as to what might happen?" They sat in silent thought for a few moments before Hermione stood abruptly.

"Let's do it," she said, walking around the desk toward him.

"Wait," he said, standing as well but taking a step away from her. He snapped his fingers and the house-elf that had served them earlier appeared. "Miss Granger and I are in need of your assistance. We are experimenting, and I need to you to stand over there," he pointed to a far corner of the room, "and observe us. Cast a protective shield around yourself. If anything should happen to us, I need you to alert the headmistress immediately. Are you capable of doing this?"

The house-elf nodded excitedly and seemed to almost skip to the corner, bringing a shield around its body with a snap of fingers. Snape turned his attention back to Hermione.

"Are you prepared?"

"As prepared as I'll ever be," she said, holding her wand out to him. Severus took a deep breath and brought his wand up.

"On the count of three." She nodded.

"One, two," they both counted, "three."

The moment the connection was made, his vision blurred and bursts of color flashed behind his eyes. His whole body seemed to come alive and his skin tingled with energy. He could feel Hermione's magic intertwine with his own, a sensation so intimate, so overwhelming, he couldn't help but to feel frightened.

"I'm scared too," he seemed to hear Hermione say without actually hearing her speak the words. He could feel her fear and knew she felt his. Slowly, as the sensation grew less foreign, his fear began to subside and curiosity took its place. He felt himself open up, allowing Hermione to connect with him fully.

"You are like honeysuckle," he found himself thinking in awe. Closing his eyes, he could see that her soul glowed golden yellow and white. It smelled subtly floral, tasted sweet, and felt warm. He found himself pulling it closer, wanting to bask in its light. He could feel rather than see her smile.

"And you are like soil," he felt her think with a soft chuckle. He was suddenly aware of his own soul, rich brown and green in color, musky and spicy in scent and taste, cool and damp to touch. He could feel her accepting his soul into her body as he accepted hers. Warmth was mixing with cool, floral with spice, dark with light - the combination perfect. As their magic, their souls, mingled, Severus could feel a power mounting between them. It was growing fast and he knew they'd not be able to control or contain it if it grew much stronger.

"We need to break the connection," he thought. He tried to pull away from Hermione, but she resisted.

"No," she seemed to say. She was holding onto the connection with all of her willpower, not wanting to let go.

"We must break it!" he shouted in his mind as a roaring filled his ears. "Now!"

He knew Hermione could feel his increasing panic, and he felt her begin to reluctantly pull away. The roaring in his ears subsided as the connection lessened, yet the urge to hold onto her golden soul seemed to grow. He resisted and continued to pull himself away while pushing her away, aware when his hand slipped from his blackthorn wand. He squeezed Hermione's wand in a tight grip as the room began to tilt, not releasing it until his mind fell into darkness.

* * *

A/N: I suck. I know. I've been struggling with writing lately, and this story in particular. I'm not exactly sure what brought on this months-long streak of feeling discouraged, I can only hope that it's passed. I'll do my best to get back on track with updating this story at regular intervals.

Thanks coliemcnoly for the beta!


	26. Dungeon Bumps and Grumps

_Disclaimer: Just a bit of fun that doesn't belong to me._

* * *

**Chapter 26**

**Dungeon Bumps and Grumps**

Hermione's head throbbed as she fought to open her eyes to slits. She was sprawled on a very cold, hard surface, and before she could contemplate where this surface might be, her eyes came into focus on the person hovering above her.

"Miss Granger, are you all right?" McGonagall said, her voice concerned.

"Where am I?" she asked, nearly whimpering at the stabbing pain in her right elbow.

"The dungeons. Specifically, Professor Snape's office," McGonagall said, her eyes darting away from Hermione's and narrowing. "Did he attack you?"

"What? Who?" she asked, her mind foggy. She began to sit up, wincing as she straightened her arm.

"Don't move. It looks like you've hurt your arm and hit your head rather hard. I'll take care of it since Poppy's away, but first," McGonagall's lips thinned, "did Severus attack you?"

Suddenly, Hermione was aware that she wasn't holding his wand anymore. Panic welled in her chest and she shot into a sitting position, ignoring her pain and McGonagall's protests. She frantically patted around the dark stone floor, an image of his wand broken in two playing through her mind.

"What is it? What are you looking for?" McGonagall asked, taken aback by Hermione's sudden panic.

"Professor Snape's wand, where is it? Oh, if it's broken -"

"Miss Granger, calm yourself. It's right here." McGonagall reached down and retrieved it from the floor near Hermione's knee.

"Oh, thank Merlin," she sighed in relief and snatched it from McGonagall's hand. She'd barelyestablished a firm grip on its handle before she heard a groan near her feet. She was shocked to discover that Professor Snape was lying not far from her.

"Miss Granger, I have no idea what is going on here," McGonagall said, her face hard and her wand pointed at Snape, "but I need to know, did he attack you?"

"What? No!" she exclaimed, clutching his wand close to her chest. "We…I think we…we-"

"-We exchanged wands, you blathering fool," Snape growled. Hermione looked up to see him scowling at her, sitting up and rubbing a hand on the side of his head. He pulled his knees up and winced, a near silent hiss escaping his lips. "Really Miss Granger," he breathed, "for being so proficient in memorizing textbooks verbatim, I find it surprising you are unable recall an event that took place only a few minutes ago. Does the word 'honeysuckle' ring a bell?" Hermione gasped.

"I demand to know what is going on here, this instant!" McGonagall thundered, her wand still pointed firmly at Snape. Hermione looked nervously between them, unsure of what to say.

"As I said before, we exchanged wands," Snape said, producing Hermione's wand and holding it up, jiggling it in the air.

"Then why was I summoned by a frantic house-elf to find the two of you toe to toe and unconscious? Why does she look so frantic? And what is the significance of honeysuckle? I'm afraid I have difficulties trusting your judgment at the moment Severus. You've attacked a healer, I wouldn't put it past you to attack a student!"

"He didn't attack me, Professor. We exchanged wands, that's all," Hermione said, shivering with the cold of the floor.

"And I suppose you're going to say the house-elf attacked you?"

"No," Snape said in strained voice as he stood up. Hermione was shocked when he limped over and offered her his hand, and she accepted it with her left, her eyes widening as his cold fingers wrapped about her wrist. She cringed at the sharp pain shooting down her right arm, but stayed silent as he pulled her up. He dropped her hand immediately and took a step away.

"Then what happened?" McGonagall asked, eyeing the two of them with suspicion.

"Dumbledore knew of our plans to exchange wands, which is, as I've twice told you, exactly what occurred_. _If you require immediate answers beyond those I have given, I suggest you go speak with him," he said, brushing dust from his robes. "Inform him that the exchange did not go quite as expected, and I'll be by to speak with him after Miss Granger and I have a few words. _Alone_." He flicked Hermione's wand toward the door and it opened with a heavy thud. McGonagall's eyes flicked from the door to Hermione.

"I'll be fine, Professor. Really, I want to stay."

"If you're sure…" McGonagall trailed off hesitantly.

"I'm sure," Hermione said, donning her most reassuring smile.

"Fine," she sighed, turning to Snape. "If one hair, Severus, _one hair_, on Miss Granger's head -"

"Really Minerva, you're being absurd," Snape interrupted. "If I'd intended to injure her, I'd have done so already."

"Hmph," McGonagall replied, turning and walking to the door. "Albus better have some real answers."

"He will," Snape said shortly, flicking Hermione's wand and slamming the door as soon as McGonagall was through it. He turned to her and glanced at the wand in her hand. "It is strange to see my wand in another's possession."

"Do you want it back?" Hermione asked, holding the handle out to him. He shook his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on the wand. They stood without speaking, the silence thick within the dungeon's cold walls. Hermione tried to straighten her arm and grimaced.

"Are you hurt? Your arm?" Snape asked suddenly.

"No, I'm fine," she said, bending and straightening her arm again, attempting to keep her expression nonchalant through the pain.

"It's obvious you're lying to me." He took a limped step toward her. "Why?" He took another step.

"Really, it's just a bump. It appears you, however, _are _hurt," she said, taking a step back and gesturing toward his knee.

"It's just a bump," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Sit." He pointed toward the chair she'd sat in earlier. She nodded and sat as he limped to the side of his desk. "Now, let me examine your arm." He flicked her wand at the chair and pulled it closer.

"I told you it's just-"

"-if it's just a bump, why won't you let me see it?"

Hermione's mouth opened and closed a few times to respond, but when no words can out, she frowned and stretched her arm across the desk and gingerly rolled the sleeve of her robes to her upper arm, shocked at the swelling that greeted her at the crook of her arm. Snape leaned over and glanced at her arm.

"Just a bump?" he inquired.

"Yes," she glanced toward her arm and could feel her face pale, "a very large bump." Hermione watched as his eyes seemed to scan every inch of her arm.

"Quite." Hermione's breath hitched as he began to gently prod her arm with cool fingers. He took her wand and held it to her elbow, holding her wrist in his other hand, he began murmuring an incantation under his breath. The pain began to subside immediately and she could feel the swelling begin to lessen. "Better?" he asked as he lowered the wand.

"Much," she breathed, aware that his hand still rested on her wrist. "Thanks." He nodded and released her wrist and limped around the desk to sit in his chair. "Is your knee injured?"

"I'll deal with it later. First, we need to discuss what just happened. Other than the injury, how do you feel?"

"I'm…I'm not sure. I don't have that empty, destitute feeling I usually have after we exchange wands."

"Neither do I. To verify, you have not attempted any magic with my wand since we awoke?"

"No, not yet." She held it up, her grip firming slightly in anticipation. "May I?" He nodded and gestured to a candle sitting on his desk.

"Light the candle," he said, his eyes narrowing at the candle as though it had offended him.

"_Incendio_." She was relieved when the wick of the candle began to burn with a bright flame. She looked from the candle to Snape, unable to keep a silly grin from spreading across her face. "That felt good."

"So I see," he said, an eyebrow raised at her smile. He stood with a wince and blew out the candle. Pointing his wand at smoking wick, he muttered the same spell, his lips twitching ever so slightly as the flame began to burn again. He looked up at Hermione and nodded. "Hm, yes, that was…gratifying." Hermione chuckled as he blew out the candle and lit it with magic again. He took a seat in his chair, his eyes fastened to Hermione's wand.

"You know, my wand was in the possession of Bellatrix for a time. I'm sure it's performed unspeakable magic, much like her own wand," she said quietly after a moment's silence, remembering his anger at seeing her with Bellatrix's wand the day of the ceremony. He looked up and studied her face for a moment, seeming almost hesitant to respond.

"Do not forget, the wand you now hold in your hand was the instrument of Dumbledore's murder," he stretched his left arm across the desk toward Hermione, palm up, "as was my magic…my soul." He closed his open palm into a tight fist and brought Hermione's wand to the cuff of his sleeve, silently undoing the buttons with magic. Using the tip of her wand, he pushed the fabric up his pale forearm, exposing the faded Dark Mark. Hermione found she couldn't tear her eyes away from his marked skin, though she could feel him studying her intently. "I have committed unspeakable evil, and my wand was with me through every act." Hermione pulled her eyes away from the Dark Mark to look at him, and found his black gaze nearly staggering in its intensity, as it had been during the ceremony.

"Your wand...it doesn't feel evil," she whispered. She brought left hand toward the desk, slowly stretching her shaking fingertips toward his clenched fist. At the first feather-light touch, she felt his hand flinch beneath hers and watched his eyes flutter shut. She ran her fingertips across his knuckles with a firmer touch, then down his long fingers to where the nails dug into his palm. Covering his hand with her own, he let her open his fist, and after tracing his calloused thumb from nail to wrist, she pressed their palms together. His eyes opened and she looked into them bravely. "This doesn't feel evil either," she breathed.

His breathing hitched, and he gently closed his hand around her wrist, brushing her skin with the pad of his thumb. After a moment, he stilled, then lowered his eyes and pulled his hand away. He slipped her wand up his sleeve and buttoned his cuff by hand. Hermione couldn't help but to feel slightly bereft of his touch.

"I apologize."

"You have nothing to apologize for," she replied firmly. He scoffed. "So, what now?" His eyes swept over her face.

"For now, you need rest, and I have an injured knee that needs attending."

"I can heal it-" Snape held up a hand.

"Miss Granger, I'm in possession of a functioning wand, I assure you, I more than capable of dealing with the situation myself."

"Of course, sir." Hermione felt her cheeks growing warm in a blush. "Shouldn't we speak to Dumbledore tonight?" He shook his head.

"No, _I_ will speak will him and the Headmistress tonight. _You _will wait until tomorrow. Minerva is quite displeased with me at the moment, I'd rather not make the situation worse by running her precious cub into a state of exhaustion. Find me in the staff room tomorrow morning at nine. After we've eaten, I will accompany you to the tower, and we shall both speak to them then. Be prepared to answer difficult questions; there's no doubt the Headmistress will have plenty for you." Hermione nodded and stood up from her chair.

"Until tomorrow," she said, stowing Snape's wand in her sleeve.

"I don't suppose it's necessary to remind you that my wand is precious to me?" he asked, his eyes fixed on her sleeve. Hermione shook her head.

"Of course not. I'll care for it as though it were my own. And I don't suppose I need to remind you either…" Snape responded with a snort and a roll of his eyes.

"Good night, Miss Ganger."

"Good night, sir."

* * *

A/N: *ducks* I know, I know. *ducks again* I'm so, so, sorry it's taken me so long to update. I have no excuse. I was feeling very discouraged about this story, and I suppose my discouragement took a while to improve. My muse was insistent that I do a ton of art/crafts and be uninspired to write. I'm going to start trying again though. I want to finish this story and I certainly don't want to leave anyone hanging. All I can do is apologize for my long absence. If all goes as planned, this story has probably five more chapters before it is completed.

A million thanks to wywrite and coliemcnoly for still being there for me after all this time.

If you'd like to see some of the art that's been keeping me busy, I'll be putting a link to my deviantArt page in my profile.


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